


Bristol Park

by Roca



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: AU, F/F, That rhymes!, zoo au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2534273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roca/pseuds/Roca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Warehouse is a zoo. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Noo-noos

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo, I don't know why exactly this idea popped into my head. I wanted to be a zookeeper in kindergarten, and I still love animals, but I don't know much more about it than what extensive Googling could tell me, so pardon any inaccuracies.  
> I just love the way AUs take the same characters and put them into totally different dynamics and situations and worlds, so I thought I'd give one a try myself. Wish me luck!

                If there was one thing interesting about working as a zookeeper (and really, there was a _lot_ of wild stuff that having such a job entailed), it was the dreams.

                When she’d worked as a cashier in her hometown’s grocery store, she’d been assuaged by endless dreams of scanning soup cans and sorting through coupon books, which she’d found very unfair. It was bad enough dealing with the tedium while she was awake, so why should she have to suffer through more of it while she was sleeping?

                Working at Bristol Park, however, had given her the opposite problem.

                “Pete, stop it!” she shouted, waving her arms wildly as she attempted to catch his attention. “ _Pete!_ ”

                “Take that!” Pete crowed, happily ignoring her in favor of turning around (carefully, as he was perched on William’s back) to taunt Claudia. “I told you that we’re faster!”

                “Aww, no! Come on, boy, we can do this!” Claudia desperately nudged at Rheticus’s sides with her knees, but the aardvark simply gave her a baleful look and continued at his plodding pace.  

                “Claudia, get off of him! And Pete-!”   
                They paid her no attention. “Will and Pete near the finish line, with the Claudia and Rheticus miles behind,” Pete said in what she could only assume was supposed to be an impression of a NASCAR commentator. “Aaaaaaaand… Yes! They finish first! The crowd goes wild!” He pumped his fists above his head triumphantly as William looked about interestedly at the “crowd” around them that was indeed going wild. Harriet was chittering and spinning in circles around Florence’s tree trunk-sized leg, while Miles honked his approval from his perch on her back. Benjamin and Amelia had evidently been rooting for Claudia and her mount, for they both gave dejected sort of squawks as the pair finally ambled over the designated finish line.

                “Oh well,” Claudia sighed. “It was a good try, Rhetty. Maybe next time.”

                Rheticus gave her a solemn look of agreement and wandered over to nibble at one of Leena’s shrubs.

                “Pete!” Myka finally caught up to him and reached up to tug at his ankle.

                “Oh, hey Mykes! Was I awesome back there or what?” He grinned down at her from a good four feet above her head.

                “What you were was _irresponsible_ ,” she said sternly, planting her hands on her hips. “First of all, why are all of these animals out of their enclosures? Secondly, competitive racing is _not_ an approved enrichment activity for any of them. Thirdly, you aren’t supposed to be riding that giraffe!”

                “Woah, woah, woah. Calm down.” Pete slid off of William’s back, holding his hands out in an appeasing gesture.  “Myka, look around.”

Sighing in irritation, she did as he asked. She looked around at the myriad of animals gathered around her and the makeshift racetrack Claudia had constructed, and then glanced around the section of the zoo they were in and briefly looked up at the sky. Which wasn’t the sky. Because the sky wasn’t cotton-candy pink with green polka-dots.

                “Oh. I’m dreaming,” she realized.

                “Duh.” Pete rolled his eyes. “And you had the nerve to call _me_ irresponsible. You’re totally gonna be late to work now.”

                “What?” Myka yelped, and then jerked awake.

                Pete wasn’t often right about anything (even in her dreams), but the flashing “7:08” on her digital clock confirmed what he had told her. “Crap,” Myka muttered, jumping out of bed and throwing herself into the bathroom to shower and brush her teeth.

                Of _course_ this was the one day this month (this year!) that she would turn up late to work. She was supposed to be there early to meet the new ornithologist that had been hired to help them expand their aviary, and now she’d probably get there more than half an hour late. How, she thought despairingly as she buttoned up her shirt and tugged on her boots, could she have possibly forgotten to set her alarm?

                Myka was normally a very careful driver, but she was pretty sure she broke about half a dozen traffic laws before she finally pulled to a stop in her customary parking spot beside the old oak out front. She was relieved that she’d managed to snag it – the spot was well established as hers, but that was because she usually arrived early enough to ensure that she got it. She could almost imagine Claudia stealing it just to tease her, and she mentally thanked any of the zoologically-inclined gods that were listening that their young operations director hadn’t.

                By the time she jogged into the staff building around back of the bio lab, she was panting heavily and decidedly not in a good mood. It was 7:46, which meant that she had made good time but was still here more than an hour later than she usually showed up to make rounds. Hopefully Artie had sent Steve to handle the morning feedings, or they would have some very unruly critters on their hands soon.

                That hope was banished a moment later as she turned the corner and saw Steve leaning against the wall and chatting with Claudia as she tapped away at her computer. “Hey Myka,” Steve greeted, giving her a smile, and Claudia looked up and gave a little wave before returning her attention to her project.

                “Sorry I’m late. Is anyone doing the rounds right now?” Myka flopped into the nearest chair with a sigh. “And what about the ornithologist?”

                “Artie sent Pete into the herp to feed a few of our slimy-scalies, but he’s handling the rest,” Claudia reported. “I don’t know if he’s afraid of them, or he just thinks it’s funny that Pete really is.”

“Probably both,” Steve reasoned, and Claudia nodded in agreement.

“As for our bird lady? She has yet to make an appearance. Methinks she has thought better of joining our wacky crew and bailed on us.”

“Not quite,” Steve told Myka, shaking his head in amusement at Claudia’s interpretation of the situation. “Apparently she’s had some delays on her flight from London. She called ahead to say that she’d be here soon.”

“Really? London?” Myka asked skeptically. “I mean, I love our little corner of the world, but it’s sort of…”

“In the middle of nowhere? Right in the boonies? Hicksville, USA?” Claudia supplied.

“Well, yeah.”

“Who cares?” Claudia threw her arms up in the air. “We could use a little fresh blood. I bet Jinksy here is tired of being the new guy.”

“I’m not really the new guy,” Steve pointed out. “I’ve been here for two years.”

“And we love you for it!” Claudia patted him on the back consolingly. “But I’ve been here for two and a half, so I’m old news and you,” she poked him in the chest for emphasis, “are still the new news.”

“What’re ‘noo-noos’?” Pete asked, wandering into the room. “’Cause that sounds like a kind of cookie. And I’d really like to try one.” He looked hopefully around at them in case there were any treats to be found.

“Not ‘noo-noos,’ Pete,” Myka corrected him. “New news. And how does that sound like a cookie?”

Pete shrugged. “Anything sounds like food if you think about it hard enough.” Myka rolled her eyes.

“Hey, remember when Artie said we were getting in some cotton-topped tamarins and Pete asked if we’d get them in time for lunch?” Claudia asked, cackling delightedly at the memory and slapping Pete a high five. “This guy always has food on the mind, Myka.”

“Don’t I know it,” she sighed.

“Hey, you can’t get all ‘don’t I know it’ with me this morning!” Pete complained. “You showed up late, so Artie made me feed Antony dead rats.” He shuddered. “I hate doing herp rounds.”

“Pete, you are a zookeeper,” Myka reminded him. “It is our job to feed these animals. It isn’t fair to hold a grudge against one just because you’re scared to feed him.”

“It’s not a grudge! I just don’t like snakes. Particularly mother-freaking huge ones.”

                Myka was tempted to retort with a “well, then why did you become a zookeeper?” but wasn’t really in the mood to hear Pete tell her again that, duh, what else was he supposed to be with a mother on the board of the Midwestern Zoological Association. So she simply settled with, “Okay then, Indiana Jones,” and giving him an affectionate punch to the shoulder.

Pete puffed up his chest, taking her comment as a compliment (as usual) and grinning at her. “So, what’s the sitch with our orithologicalologist lady? Is she here yet?”

“I can’t believe you even graduated high school.”

“She got delayed,” Steve told him. “But-”

“She’s here!” Artie declared, popping his head into the room. He scowled slightly when he caught sight of the tardy Myka, but he scowled even more when he looked at Pete, so she figured she wasn’t too badly off in the zoo director’s books if she still ranked lower than him on the scowl-meter. “She finally managed to make it,” Artie continued, barely lowering his voice to a mutter.

If Artie had seemed grumpy toward them, he was positively furious with the newcomer who stepped somewhat shyly through the door before them. He had been, Myka remembered, heartily opposed to the expansion of the aviary in the first place, wanting to build up a new prairie dog exhibit instead.

But that was the last clear thought Myka had before her calm, logical mind was knocked clear off-kilter by the absolutely stunning woman before her.

“Hello there,” she said, smiling ever so slightly. “My name is Helena Wells.”

 

 

 

 

               


	2. Namesake

“Well hey!” Pete was the first to greet her, sticking out his hand and shaking hers enthusiastically. “Welcome to our zoo!”    

“Thank you,” Helena replied, looking a little taken aback at his enthusiasm (Pete tended to have that effect on people).

 “Yeah, great to have you,” Claudia chimed in. “I’m Claudia, this is Steve, that’s Pete, you’ve met Artie, and there’s Myka.”

Steve nodded and smiled, while Pete waggled his fingers unnecessarily and Artie grunted something approximating a hello. 

Myka blinked furiously to clear her mind and offered up a polite grin. “Um, hi. Nice to meet you.”

Helena dipped her head and considered her with eyes dark and bright as river stones. “Likewise.”

“Okay!” Pete clapped his his hands and rubbed them together excitedly. “How ‘bout a tour for our new ori… othi…”He frowned in consternation and then shrugged. “Our bird lady!”

Claudia sighed, pouting. “I’d love to, but I’ve gotta finish up these reports. Steve?”

                “I can’t either,” he responded. “I need to check on Cleo. I think her foot’s still bothering her.”

                “I’m out too!” Pete declared. “I haven’t had my coffee yet, plus I need to go open the gates in a few minutes.”  He looked pointedly at Artie.

                “No! I’ve got work to do,” the older man blustered, and then stomped out without waiting for a reply.

                “I guess it falls to you then, Myka,” Pete said dramatically, “to escort the beautiful maiden around our lovely domain.”

                Myka suddenly realized that she’d been staring at Helena throughout the entire conversation and hadn’t exactly been paying attention to what had been said. “Okay, sure,” she answered, a bit belatedly, guiltily turning her eyes back to Pete. Fortunately, everyone else had been too busy scoffing at Pete’s comment to notice her slip-up.

                “Careful, Pete,” Claudia teased him. “Amanda will kick your ass if she hears you sweet-talking another lady.”

                “This ‘Amanda’ need not fear,” Helena reassured her, giving Pete a bright smile. “I have no intention of reciprocating any such attention.” And as he attempted to figure out whether or not to be insulted, she turned to beckon to Myka. “Come along. Let’s see what there is to see here.” With that, she swept out of the room.

                “Woah, Myka,” Claudia told her, giving an impressed look at the doorframe through which Helena had just departed. “You’re going to have to watch out for that one.”

                Myka swallowed, nodded once, and moved to follow her.

                Helena was waiting for her a few feet down the hall. “Myka, is it?” she asked, straightening. “What a lovely name.”

                “Thanks,” she replied awkwardly. Myka had never had much of a silver tongue, but now she almost felt as if it was made of sand instead of muscle. “Yours is nice, too.”

                God, was her smile dazzling. And her voice? Myka had no problem with the relatively mild Midwestern accent she was constantly surrounded by, but it sounded positively nasal compared to Helena’s dipping vowels and lilting consonants.

                “Shall we go, then?” Helena asked, and Myka nodded mutely and walked toward the doors.

                Myka was absolutely ravenous for more information about the newcomer, but Helena did little to oblige her as they wandered from exhibit to exhibit. A few small tidbits were all that she offered. As they watched Robert and Emily the sea lions splashing in their tank and tussling over a ball, Helena informed her that she’d graduated from the Edward Grey Institute at Oxford, but didn’t detail the year. While they marveled over the sheer size of Louis and Florence as they trundled about picking up straw with their trunks and tossing it idly in the air, Helena talked a little about her time at the Chester Zoo.

                “That place is a lot bigger than here,” Myka commented, leaning against the railing and waving at Florence. The elephant flapped her ears and gave her trunk a little wiggle in return.

                “You could say that I needed a… change of pace,” Helena told her, smiling in amazement at Florence but refusing to meet Myka’s eyes. “The zoo director there, Caturanga, suggested this facility to me. He’s a very wise man. I’m hoping he’s right about this place.” Myka wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that, but Helena didn’t follow up on her statement and Myka decided against bringing it up. Instead, they lapsed into near-complete silence for the next leg of the tour.

                Myka was really able to learn more from her that way, she discovered. Helena gazed at every creature they passed by with the gentle awe of one who truly appreciates animals, which made Myka smile in turn. If there was one trait that inspired trust in Myka, it was caring for animals. It made Myka feel more at ease with her, and she found herself able to speak more comfortably about life at the zoo.

                “All of your animals have very strange names,” Helena remarked as they stopped to rest by the capybara pen. Their largest male meandered over to sniff at them, wandering away when he had determined that Myka had no carrots in her pocket. “At Chester, all of ours were named from the country they came from, or else “Jojo” or “Spot” or something like that. But you have your Francis and Alexander and Luisa! I can only imagine that this fellow’s name is something along the lines of ‘Algernon.’” She gestured toward the capybara that had just come by.

                “Actually, his name is Charles.”

                “Charles!” Helena exclaimed, and they laughed together at the absurdity of it. “You know, my brother’s name is Charles. He’ll be thrilled with his namesake, I’m sure.”

                “Our Charles is after Charles Dickens.” As if to prove how much he resembled the famed author, Charles the capybara took a magnificently odiferous dump before them and lifted his head in pride at his accomplishment.

                “Why is that?” Helena backed away from the stench, comically waving a hand in front of her nose. “Did you just really hate high school English, naming such a foul beastie after him?” The amused quirk of her lips and fond way she looked at Charles belied the harshness of her comment.

                “Not at all. I loved that class – and Dickens.” Myka touched Helena’s elbow and motioned her away from the pile of dung and down the path toward the camels, feeling a slight tingle in her fingers at the point where they had touched. “It’s been a tradition to name our animals after historical figures since the zoo was founded. That was in 1904, so it was mostly Greek philosophers and old kings. Now it’s more people that were alive then or even later.”

                “I see,” Helena said, and Myka could see her almost lighting up with interest. “Your aardvark is named after the mathematician, I assume.”

                Myka nodded. “Claudia named him. Her brother is a crazy math nerd – he did his thesis on Rheticus.”

                “And Harriet – she’s named after the author? No? Harriet… Tubman? And Florence… Florence Nightingale! Francis, that pig in the petting zoo – he’s Francis Bacon! Ha! Clever, that.”

                “I can’t take credit; that was Pete’s idea. But I named Susan over there after the suffragist.” Regarding the two capybaras named after an author and an activist, Helena gave her the most real smile she had seen yet. Myka suddenly realized that at all other times there had been a veil – faint, almost invisible, but still there – shading her every action with a faint tinge of something Myka couldn’t place. Exhaustion, maybe. Well, she could blame jet lag for that. But some instinct told Myka that it was something more.

                The veil had been brushed aside by the sudden gale of Helena’s intellectual excitement, allowing her personality and wit to shine through unhindered. She eagerly asked the name of every animal they stopped by and guessed each of their historical counterparts with a speed and accuracy that delighted Myka.

And then a young girl, probably around seven, tugged at Helena’s sleeve as they walked down the path toward the giraffes. “Excuse me, miss, but could you tell me where the penguins are?” she asked sweetly, and flashed them a smile that had both front teeth missing.

At first Myka thought Helena had been blown away by the sheer adorableness of the little girl, though Myka wasn’t really a big fan of kids herself. A closer look, however, revealed that something was really wrong. Helena was standing stock-still as if she’d been paralyzed, staring at the girl in something akin to horror. As she watched, her hand twitched, almost unconsciously, as if to stoke the child’s hair.

                “Penguins are down there, past the sea lions,” Myka directed, stepping impulsively between the two of them. “Okay?”

The girl nodded, glancing between them curiously, before skipping off. “Thanks!” she called over her shoulder, and disappeared into the crowd.

Helena was standing in the same position, eyes wide and hand still slightly extended. “Helena,” Myka asked tentatively. Helena’s gaze snapped to hers and she lowered her arm slowly. “Are you okay?”

“I… I am… Yes.” For the first time, Helena’s quick wit seemed to have failed her. “Fine. I’m fine.” Her entire body was wracked by a great spasm, quite like a dog shaking water off its back, and she screwed her eyes shut. “Could we carry on, please?” she asked in little more than a whisper.

Myka, with an uncertain nod, wordlessly led them onward.

Helena was markedly less cheerful about learning the names of the remaining animals, and her mood seemed to have had improved not at all before they arrived at their final destination.

“I saved the best for last,” Myka told her, attempting to sound upbeat as she gestured toward the glass-roofed building before them. “Here’s our aviary.”

“Very nice,” Helena said, staring at it almost apprehensively. Myka filed away the mental question mark raised by the hesitant expression on Helena’s face and studied her closely. Helena made no move to enter the structure or to elaborate on her assessment, and Myka’s own unease grew exponentially with every passing second. After a few moments of inexplicably tense silence, Myka decided she needed a nudge.

“Want to go in and see the poop-delivering feathered parcels that are now your responsibility?” She’d meant it as a joke, but the stormy look on Helena’s face indicated that she had not interpreted it as such.

“No thank you,” she said curtly. “I’m sure your young operations director has a plethora of paperwork for me to fill out right now.” She turned abruptly away from the aviary. “I think I can find my way back. Thanks for the tour, Myka,” she added, her voice softening slightly. With that, she simply walked away.

Myka stayed behind, worriedly staring the dark head of hair that bobbed through the crowd before her. If she wasn’t mistaken (and really, when did Myka ever make a mistake, alarm-setting notwithstanding?) Helena Wells had been actually frightened of the aviary.

What kind of ornithologist was afraid of birds? For that matter, what zookeeper of any sorts was freaked out by children? Apparently, there was a lot more to this ornithologist than she could ever have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoohoo! A flurry of creative energy (plus way too much time in the car on this road trip) has led to a rapidly-created second chapter. Let's hope this lasts!   
> A few quick notes: Capybaras are awesome, first of all.   
> Secondly, I'm vaguely basing Bristol Park off of the very lovely Henry Vilas Zoo in Madison. I have spent and will spend many an afternoon happily watching fat little prairie dogs scuffle over chunks of melon and the peacock spread his feathers and swing around in a chicken-footed dance. That place was my childhood, you guys.


	3. Definitely

“Hey Pete?” Myka asked tentatively, looking up from the veterinary form she had not quite been paying attention to. “Have you talked to Helena yet?”

“Uh-huh.” Pete himself did not turn his focus away from the very important task of playing with one of the sea lions’ balls.

“Well… what did you think?” Myka hoped that he didn’t detect the forced casualness in her tone, but she needn’t have worried. Pete was above all things sweet and goofy, but close in third place was his almost incredible obliviousness.

“She was okay.” He shrugged, then tossed the ball in a lazy overhead loop and snagged it again. “A little quiet and kind of a snob, maybe, but mostly nice. Why?”

“No reason,” Myka said quickly. “But has she said anything about, you know, herself to you?”

“Naw.” Pete shook his head and tucked the ball under his arm, twisting in his seat to face her. “Like I said, H.G.’s quiet.”

Myka cocked her head. “H.G.?”

“Yeah, H.G.” Pete gave her a strange look. “She asked us all to call her that when she came in to do her paperwork yesterday. Wouldn’t tell us what the “G” stands for, though.”

“She didn’t say anything about that to me during the tour.” Myka briefly wondered if Helena –H.G.? – had simply forgotten to inform Myka of her nickname or had left her with a different title on purpose. (A small part of her relished having something special with her that the others didn’t share, and she resolved to stick to calling her “Helena” unless directed otherwise.) “That’s kind of weird.”

“Weird!” Pete snapped his fingers and nodded. “That’s another word that describes her.”

“Really?” Myka asked, privately agreeing. “What do mean?”

“Well, what normal person would be so excited to do paperwork?”

“Oh, well, it can be terribly thrilling,” said a voice from the doorway behind them. Both of their heads jerked up from their small huddle in suprise.

“Hey, H.G.,” Pete said guiltily, giving her a semi-apologetic grin. “We didn’t, uh, see you there.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Helena said, giving an indulgent smile in return. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. What were you working on?”

“Reports for Vanessa,” Myka supplied quickly. “Steve asked me to write one up for her about one of our lions.”

“And Pete is… helping?” Oh, Helena was enjoying this way too much. Well, at least she was learning something new about her: she had one heck of a sense of humor.

“Yup. Mr. Helpful is my middle name.” Pete paused to think that through a little more. “No, Mr. Helpful is my name. _Helpful_ is my middle name.”

“Pete Helpful Helpful?” Myka smirked. “That sounds about right.”

“Shut it, you.”

After that, it was easy to fall back into their usual playful bickering. Helena watched them with amusement and occasionally put in a shrewd comment of her own. It was an easy back-and-forth that made Myka hopeful that Helena’s strange behavior from the other day was simply a fluke of jetlagged surliness. Maybe, she thought, Helena would fit in after all.

“Hey guys!” Claudia called cheerfully, breezing into the room with Steve in tow. Almost since the day of his arrival, the two of them had been nearly inseparable. Steve’s down-to-earth nature helped to balance out Claudia’s unrestrained rambunctiousness, so everyone working at Bristol Park was grateful for his presence.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting himself on the edge of his desk. “We could hear from you all the way down the hall.”

“They’re picking on me,” Pete complained. “I was hoping we’d finally get somebody here who appreciates me, but nooooooo. We had to go and get Myka’s British evil twin.”

“Hey, I’ve got no problem with that,” Claudia cheered, slapping a nonplussed but agreeable Helena. a high-five. “Minus the evil part.”

“Well, I’m not too evil, fortunately,” Helena reassured her. “All my attempts at ending the word and enslaving the human race are behind me.”

“You’d better tell Artie that,” Steve said seriously. “He’s keeps demanding to know when you’re going to get to work in the aviary, and – sorry to say –he wasn’t too happy to have you around in the first place.” At her bewildered and rather hurt look, he and Claudia filled her in on the “prairie dogs vs. aviary” battle that had wracked the park’s administration for the past month.

“I had no idea Artie loved prairie dogs so much,” Claudia concluded. “It was, like, weird. He was so ticked off about the board’s decision, he grumbled at Pete for an entire week. Well, more than usual, anyway.”

“We thought that he’d try to go over Pete’s mom’s head by appealing to Mrs. Frederic,” Myka added, “but Leena managed to convince him that that probably wasn’t a good idea.”

“She’s our horticulturalist,” Pete put in, sounding proud of himself for remembering the word. “She’s really mellow – and pretty much the only person that can calm Artie down.”

Helena nodded thoughtfully, and Myka marveled at the fact she was able to understand what her friends were saying. The way they constantly talked over and spoke in circles around each other still left her confused at times, and she’d been working with them for years.

“I’ve yet to meet this Leena,” she told them. “However, if she is often in Artie’s company, that may be for the best.”

“Leena’s very sweet,” Myka said. “You’d like her.”

“But you’ll like Artie a lot less soon,” Steve cautioned her. “He really wants you to be working with the birds right now. He kept using the words ‘slacking off’ and ‘useless endeavor,’ earlier when he was looking for you.”

Myka noticed that Helena stiffened near-imperceptibly at that. “Well,” she said, and the cheeriness of her voice suddenly sounded rather strained. “It seems it’s time for me to go, then.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Myka blurted. She knew that she must have sounded a bit too eager when she saw Claudia give her a measuring look, but there was no way to take it back even if she had wanted too.

“I don’t want to cause you any trouble,” Helena. said lightly. “It’s fine.”

“No, really, it’s on my way,” Myka insisted. “I need to go feed Socrates anyway.” Myka knew she sounded ridiculous, pushing the issue like she was, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about the way she’d refused to enter the aviary and work with the creatures she’d studied for years. Myka wanted to be there to be sure… sure of what? That Helena would actually go inside? That she wouldn’t have another freakout over birds or little girls? That she’d be okay? Myka didn’t really know why she needed to accompany her, but she felt that it was necessary.

“Well,” Helena said reluctantly, seeing that there was no way to avoid her without a serious struggle, “I’d be glad of the company.” She smiled, but the grey-tinged veil from the day before was again draped over her features. “Goodbye, Pete, Claudia, Steve.”  
                This time, Helena didn’t wait for her in the hallway. Myka had to almost dash after her as she swept down its length in strides lengthened by poorly-hidden frustration. When Myka finally caught up, Helena spun to face her and snapped, “What exactly are you doing?”

“What are you talking about?” Myka tried to hide her surprise under a mask of indignation. “I was just being friendly.”

“You’re spying on me,” Helena told her, eyes narrowed.

“Okay, yes,” Myka admitted. Really, she hadn’t imagined that Helena would have caught on to her well-intentioned ulterior motives so quickly. “You were acting sort of weird yesterday,” she continued gently, trying to project an image of professional concern. The illusion was quickly warped as she found her hand grasping Helena’s shoulder, keeping her in place as she tried to turn away. “I just wanted to make sure that you’re, you know, okay.”

The suspicion and anger seemed to drain out of Helena at once, and Myka felt her slump beneath her hand. “I’m fine,” Helena said hollowly. “Don’t bother yourself over me.” Still hunched slightly over herself, almost in a protective crouch, she pushed through the door and made to leave.

“Wait!” Myka cried, holding the door open as she stared helplessly after her. Several phrases sprang to her lips: “Don’t talk like that!” and “You are _not_ fine!” and “What’s wrong?” But she felt as if she couldn’t make such declarations to a near-stranger, so all that she said was a rather timid “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” Helena said, giving her a smile laced with sorrow. “I can handle a few birds.”

Again, Myka found herself standing stupidly in place and staring at Helena’s back as she walked away. This time, however, she was even more confused.

Yes, she decided, looking down at the hand that felt far too empty without a fistful of Helena’s coat. Definitely confused. And definitely worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I can't keep this pace up, but I'm on vacation and this is a lot of fun to write. I'd really appreciate feedback on dialogue and pacing especially, if anyone would care to tell me how I'm doing.  
> Cheers!


	4. Finding the Garden of Eden

Myka didn’t really see Helena again for almost five days. She’d caught glimpses of her on the paths around the zoo and in the staff room, sure, but they hadn’t had time to do more than exchange greetings or nods in passing. Myka wasn’t sure exactly how she felt about that. Helena was an enigma, but not necessarily in an off-putting way. In fact, she just made Myka want to know more, to understand her.

The next full conversation they had occurred in the domain of their zoo’s primary veterinarian, Dr. Vanessa Calder. Myka had been on hand to assist an hour earlier when Vanessa had tranquilized Cleo, one of their older female lions, in order to bring her in for an examination, and had decided to accompany them to the lab to make sure the trip went smoothly. Lions tended to like visits to the vet even less than your average housecat, and they could be far more lethal when irritable, so even the most routine of procedures had to be done under anesthesia.

“I think I’ve found the issue,” Vanessa said from the exam table, and Myka carefully moved toward the great dozing cat for a closer look. Even after working with such magnificent animals for over five years, Myka still felt awed when she came as close to them as she then was to Cleopatra. Her sheer size and muscle, the power and grace she maintained even while out cold, was enough to take her breath away.

“What is it, Dr. Calder?” one of her vet techs asked from her elbow. “Her claw?” He had an earnest if awkward look about him as he stood with a pen poised over his clipboard, and Myka recalled what it had felt like to be so young and have so much to prove.

“Yes, Todd. It’s ingrown – but not too badly. Our Steve caught it quickly enough that fixing it shouldn’t be much of a problem,” Vanessa said warmly, smiling up at Myka. “Thank him for me, will you?”

“Of course.” Steve had always had a particular talent for deciphering the true feelings of their animals, which often allowed him to detect the injuries and illnesses they instinctually tried to hide. It was part of what made their keeping team work so well: Steve could read the animals, Pete could connect with them (they often joked that this was due to the fact that he was at least half chimpanzee) in his own “vibe”-based way, and Myka could observe and learn and recognize behaviors that were unusual and potentially concerning. Claudia, of course, was able to ensure that they had the tools and resources they needed while pitching in from behind the scenes, while Artie, despite all his bluster and grumpiness, knew the place better than any of them and cared for the zoo like a devoted nephew to a wild, eccentric aunt.

“Well, I’m just going to get ready to operate,” Vanessa said, straightening, which Myka understood as a friendly request that she leave them to their work.

“Be careful around Cleo,” Myka told her, rising to head out with a nod of farewell. “She may be old, but she’s still tough.”

Vanessa laughed, stripping off her gloves to pick up the lion’s file. “You could say the same thing about me, actually.”

Myka smiled and closed the door behind her softly – only to turn around and almost bump directly into Helena.

“Oh, pardon me!” Helena said, sounding a trifle embarrassed. “I was just going to knock – perhaps Dr. Calder’s available?”

“Not exactly,” Myka replied, slightly amused. “Unless you call operating on a 270-pound feline ‘available.’”

“I see,” Helena said, a little put-out. “Well, thank you, Myka.” And she turned to go.

Once again, Myka found herself simultaneously flooded with things to say but awkwardly tongue-tied. But before Helena could make it more than a few feet, she managed to ask, “Why did you come here?” Immediately, she cringed at how hostile that sounded. “I mean, you could’ve just called. Or sent an e-mail. We usually don’t drop by the lab to make appointments unless it’s a big emergency.”

Having worked at a much larger zoo than theirs for years, Helena should definitely know that – did know that, if Myka understood the brief flash of guilt that flashed across her face for a moment. “I just wanted to meet her,” Helena told her, so smoothly that Myka couldn’t be sure she wasn’t just making up an excuse on the fly.

“Okay.” Myka hoped she didn’t sound as skeptical as she felt. One thing was for certain about this conversation: she wasn’t making a very good impression. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think right now is a good time for a visit.”

“I understood that, thanks,” Helena said coolly. “I’ll come back another day.”

Again she made to leave; again Myka halted her with a sudden question. “Why do you hate it there so much?”

“I beg your pardon?” This time, the words left her as more of a threat than an apology.

“The aviary,” Myka pressed on, aware that the gleam in Helena’s eyes was more dangerous than anything she’d ever seen in a lioness’. “You’re never there when I come by, even though you told Artie that’s where you’d be. You’re always trying to get out of being there, making up excuses. Why?”

If Helena had been cool before, now she was positively frigid. “I don’t see that that’s any of your business.”

“No, it is,” Myka countered, stepping forward. “They’re my animals, too. I care about them. I care if you’re doing your job and taking care of them.”

In a sudden flash of flame in her dark eyes, magma began to pour forth from fissures Helena’s cold exterior. “How dare you,” she hissed in the way of fire lapping at sizzling ice. She leaned in as well, until their faces were almost touching. “I am good at my job! I treat those birds like my children!”

Myka was ready to fire back another remark, but she stopped at the stricken look on Helena’s face. It had appeared that she’d struck a nerve – or rather, Helena herself had, with all the force of a hammer striking her spine. “Hey, I’m sorry,” Myka said hesitantly, and laid a light hand on her upper arm. Helena swallowed once and looked away, but didn’t move aside. “I didn’t mean to insult you or your work. I’m sure-”

“I take care of them,” Helena said in a low, hollow voice. Gone was the fire and ice, leaving behind a barren plain of ash. “I try.”

“I know you do,” Myka said, marveling at her abrupt turnabout from antagonist to comforter.

“But sometimes, I can’t… I can’t always.” She shuddered slightly, pulling away from Myka to let her arm drop limply back to her side. “I’m going back now,” she said, suddenly fierce again. “Goodbye.” And she whisked away before Myka could say a word.

There was something else that this conversation had established, Myka realized: Helena changed moods as quickly as a May sky on the sea. Perhaps, however, squalls and storms were more likely on the frontier of her features than on the rockiest coast.

Though that outburst had been more interesting than any of Helena’s behavior up until that point, Myka refrained from talking to Pete about it. It had been one thing to chat about her when she was still almost a stranger, but Myka felt as if she had discovered something personal about her that she had no business telling anyone else.

 _Children_. That was the word that had rattled her so. It made sense, Myka supposed. Perhaps Helena had experienced a messy divorce before she’d come to Bristol Park, and had been forced to leave a son or daughter – perhaps several – behind in her spouse’s custody. It was strange, thinking of razor-witted, independent (and yes, absolutely stunning) Helena as a mother. She’d seen families of every stripe and caliber wander through the zoo before, but she would never have imagined Helena clasping hands with a little dark-haired miniature of herself and tugging them behind her to visit the penguins. Even now, suspecting that it was possible, she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the idea.

Myka could only conclude that she had been the most devoted of mothers, if she treated her children with the same devotion she began to show the birds in her sanctuary. Every time Myka came by after their conversation (which was more often than she necessarily had to, she had to admit), she found Helena in the aviary, tending to the rainforest plants with Leena, checking the temperature and humidity, changing the feeding dishes, and simply watching her charges dart by on wings of scarlet and cobalt and jade.

Myka was cautious at first, stilling feeling ashamed of lashing out at Helena in Vanessa’s office. But Helena always flashed her a smile as bright and pure as the breast of a yellow-bellied sunbird, so Myka grew more and more comfortable stopping by to visit and help. It became a little paradise, with the birds and the sun above and the forest and Helena below, surrounded in a pleasant damp heat and loamy scent of forest soil.

                With macaws and hornbills as their vibrant guardian angels, they were at peace in their shy little Eden.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing research for this story has been a lot of fun, as has writing it. Just wanted to say that I went back and fixed a mistake from earlier. I had Mrs. Frederic as "Ms. Frederick' - ahhhh! Anyway, thanks for sticking around!  
> (For any video game geeks, I will give you a high-five if you can figure out where the title of this chapter comes from.)


	5. Swing

                “Do you need a hand?” Myka asked, leaning over the handle of her shovel. The air in the aviary was hot and humid, much like being swaddled in a damp, warm wool blanket, and her longer pants, shirt, and even her gardening gloves had been discarded hours ago. Add to that the fact that she was toiling at replanting a fig tree, and that the air was so thick that she was almost drinking rather than breathing… well, she was sweating buckets.  She might have been a bit embarrassed by the fact, silly as that was, if Helena’s t-shirt wasn’t also soaked through.

                “Please,” Helena panted, and Myka stuck her shovel in the dirt and bent over the same stubbornly-rooted shrub that the other woman was tugging at with all her might. The two of them strained for a moment, hands clenched on its wiry trunk, until it finally gave way with an earthy tearing noise under their combined efforts.

                “Thanks,” Helena said, carelessly wiping her palms on her shorts. “That was a nasty one, wasn’t it?”

                “Yeah,” Myka agreed, looking up from picking a splinter out of her hand to smile at her. “I’ll be glad when this is over.” Helena cocked an eyebrow. “Not because of you,” Myka amended hurriedly. “Just because of these damn plants. I love working with you.”

                Helena gave her a look and opened her mouth, about to make what would surely be another teasing comment. (And flirtatious, too? Myka still wasn’t entirely sure of her intentions in that regard, though she didn’t want to get her hopes up.) But Leena spoke first. “Don’t talk about them that way, Myka,” she scolded with gentle humor. “They’re living things too, and a lot of these plants have been around a lot longer than you have.”

                “Sorry, Leena,” she apologized. “I’m just a little tired of them right now. I don’t know how you can deal with them every single day.” Leena’s only response was an enigmatic smile as she went back to the saplings she’d been preparing for planting. “I seriously don’t know how she does it,” Myka commented to Helena. “Plants can be really interesting, but they just can’t compete with any of the animals around here.”

                “Don’t even start.” Helena huffed out a laugh. “The head gardener at the Chester Zoo, William Wolcott – he and I argued for months about whether birds were more exciting than plants.”

                “Really?” Myka asked, partially intrigued, partially just eager for a break from the hard labor of pulling up plants (and partially thrilled at the opportunity to hear Helena’s lovely voice for a few more minutes).

                “Yes, really. Like you, I didn’t think he had much of a point to argue. But the things he told me, Myka!  Trees as tall as skyscrapers, plants that can catch their own prey, flowers as big as me with a smell like a corpse, lily pads strong enough to support a toddler… ” She shook her head. “In the end, we had to call it a draw.

                “Wow.” Myka grinned. “Sounds like he and Leena would get along really well.”

                “Yes, I suppose they would.” Helena suddenly looked a bit deflated. “I miss him, you know. He was such a kind soul – and a good friend.”

                Myka paused in picking her shovel back up, a jolt of surprise going through her. Helena never – _never_ – talked about her life from before. Or at all, really. In the three weeks since she’d been assigned to help Helena and Leena prepare the aviary for the new section that would be added (a task Myka was happy to take on when she found out it meant she’d be working with Helena all day), Helena hadn’t told her anything more than the scant few details she’d mentioned on her first time at the zoo. Myka was still holding onto her “messy divorce” theory, though some doubt had begun to creep in upon it. Helena was a very strong woman, and she didn’t seem like the type to flee across oceans and countries just to get away from an ex that had wronged her. Stranger things had happened, however, so she was withholding judgment until she knew more, if that ever happened.

                “Who else did you work with there?” she asked carefully, wary of upsetting her once again. They’d been working together for a month, and she’d gotten to know Helena well, but she was still inexperienced at dealing with the minefield that was Helena’s pre-Bristol Park history.

                “Caturanga, for one,” Helena told her. She’d moved on to the next bush, digging around its roots with a trowel to loosen the dirt. “He was quite brilliant, but never arrogant.  I miss him the most, aside from… I miss him, too.”

                 “ _Aside from whom?_ ” Myka wanted to ask – but she really _didn’t_ want Helena to balk again, to turn away and refuse to respond, so she swallowed the question and instead put a sympathetic hand on Helena’s arm.

                “Well, we’re glad to have you,” Mkya told her softly, giving her shoulder a squeeze, and Helena gave her a grateful smile.

                Myka knew she’d have to ask someday. She tended to be a very private person, and was aware that some things were none of her business, but – but Helena was her friend, and something was hurting her. Her eyes were so bright and clever, and she felt a furious tug in her gut every time they clouded over with the sorrow of her past. Whatever it was that had happened to her, Myka felt oddly driven to find a way to lessen its burden upon her. She wasn’t entirely sure why she felt so strongly about it, or why she believed that she herself could help Helena, but she was just so _certain_. Impulses were Pete’s thing, had always been, but Helena somehow made everything that was normal and rational fly out the window like the wildest and most joyous of the birds wheeling is circles above them.

                But she and Helena worked in near-silence for the next few hours of exhausting digging and planting, and Myka found herself still dwelling on the issue by the time she bid the two other women farewell in order to go do her last rounds before the zoo closed for the evening. On her way out, she happened to pass Liam, the zoo’s newest security guard, at his post by the front gate.

                “Hi there, Myka,” he greeted, giving his customary easy smile. “Have a good time in there?”

                Myka shrugged, and then groaned at the ache that dragged through her shoulders at the simple action. “It was fine,” she muttered, massaging her back.

                Liam chuckled. “If you say so.” He gave her a little wave as she limped along down the path to the offices.

                “Eww, Mykes,” Pete complained as she entered and flopped bonelessly into the nearest chair. “You smell worse than the monkey house.”

                “You’d know what that’s like,” she muttered, too tired to come up with a better comeback.

                “Ooh, that was weak,” Claudia commented from her usual perch by the computer. “And, for the record, Pete is totally right. You should go down to the elephant showers and hose yourself off.”

                “Too tired,” Myka moaned. “’Sides, I don’t have any clothes to change into.”

                “Then maybe you should do us all a favor and head home for the night.” Claudia batted her eyes sweetly, smirking at the look of playful irritation that settled across Myka’s features.

                “Why don’t you do us all a favor and… I don’t know. What do you even do, messing around on the computer all day?”

                “Hey!” Claudia cried indignantly. “I’ll have you know that I do the very important organizing and prioritizing of many things. Project manager, remember?”

                Myka, too exhausted to come up with another snarky remark, settled for waving her hand in a feeble show of surrender.

                “Okay, you definitely need to go home and get some sleep,” Pete decided. “Will you be able to drive home okay?”

                “I’ll be fine,” Myka said, stifling a yawn. “Don’t worry about me – I’ve still gotta do the final rounds, anyway.” Pete began to protest, but she interrupted him. “It’s fine, Pete. I can handle it.”

                “Okay,” he said unhappily, “but be careful. Dangerous critters and sleepy zookeepers are not a good combination.”

                “I know,” Myka promised. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

                And she was fine. She fed Rheticus and cleaned up some capybara dung and changed Harriet’s water supply without a hitch. She even prepared fish for the polar bears and tossed them into their cavernous mouths from the safety of the ledge above their enclosure. A few landed in the pool and she watched with a vague sense of amusement as Donner dove in after them, grunting excitedly as he batted them around in the water. When they were all gone, she gave the two bears a fond smile as she picked up her bucket and stumbled down the steps to the zookeeper access pathway.

                Maybe she really was too tired. Maybe she was thinking about Helena and hoping that she would be able to get home without incident, seeing as she would likely be even more tired than Myka herself. Either way, something was off as she left the polar bear enclosure and walked wearily to her car, but she simply, uncharacteristically, tragically did not notice that behind her, the safety gate swung open slightly on its hinges, unlocked.

              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am learning such interesting stuff from researching this story. I hope it's agreeing with you guys!


	6. Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just thought I'd let you know that this chapter contains swearwords and some violence, so be careful if you're not too fond of that stuff.

Myka slept well that night in her cramped but comfortable apartment, slumbering for a few blissfully dream- free hours (zoo-related or otherwise) before her alarm clock went off at six in the morning. Working the kinks from legs and shoulders stiff from yesterday’s work, she bustled about getting ready for her morning rounds and was out the door within half an hour.

                The parking lot was almost empty when she pulled into her favorite spot in front of the oak tree. She recognized Liam’s battered truck – his overnight shift must almost be over, she realized – and a Prius that was either Steve’s or Claudia’s, but there was an unfamiliar vehicle squatting in the farthest spot from the gate. She frowned at it for a moment, trying to puzzle out if any of her coworkers had gotten a new car, before tucking the thought aside. It was almost seven, and she needed to make sure all of their animals were fed, watered, and otherwise taken care of before the zoo opened in an hour.

                       Walking through the gate, she spotted Liam leaning against the rail of the penguin exhibit, blinking exhaustedly. “Hey, are you alright?” she asked, walking over. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

                “That’s a definite possibility,” Liam told her, giving her a smile that was quickly disfigured into a deep yawn. “I’ve been here since seven last night.”

                “I know, I saw you on my way out. You should tell Artie to stop giving you such long shifts. It’s not healthy.”

                “He doesn’t have much choice. We’re pretty understaffed right now,” Liam reminded her. “Besides, I’m almost done for the day. It doesn’t matter now.”

“If you say so.” Still feeling a bit doubtful, she left him staring sleepily at the informational poster about the conservation status of chinstrap penguins and made her way to the staff center to pick up a wheelbarrow and some feed. Claudia greeted her from her usual post at her computer, looking a little too chipper for the early hour. Myka assumed that caffeine had been involved in her miraculous transformation into a morning person, and her suspicions only grew when Claudia waved her over to see the new structural plans for the aviary that had come in. She didn’t blame her for her excitement – it had been a number of years since the zoo had had the funds to take on any sort of major project – but the empty brown-tinged mug at her elbow and the way she spoke a mile a minute gave away the involvement of copious amounts of coffee.

“And, like, there’s gonna be this cool walkway thing, with all these trees around it, and then there’ll be a little waterfall at the end, and a pond for ducks and cranes or whatever, and also –”

“That sounds really nice, Claud,” Myka told her, grimacing internally at the idea of messing around with more trees and plants. Politely but quickly detangling herself from the ever-tightening snare of Claudia’s chatter (now accelerated by caffeine), she hurried on to the storeroom to pick up a bale of hay for the elephants.

Morning rounds weren’t too strenuous, since it mostly involved just checking on the animals to make sure they hadn’t gotten themselves into trouble during the night. Most animals were fed during the day (to the delight of the guests, who never seemed to tire of watching) or in the afternoon, so really all she had to do was make sure they had an appropriate amount of water and seemed comfortable.

The morning passed quickly as she checked on each of her charges and dropped the hay off for the elephants to nibble at, and soon enough she again found herself at the staff center, back where she’d started.

She spotted Liam again – this time by the black bear den, drowsing beside a trash can – and she opened her mouth to call to him, to shout an encouragement something along the lines of “only ten more minutes!” before she came over to keep the poor man from falling asleep right there.

A movement from above caught her eye instead, and her head snapped up to squint at the zookeeper access ledge that wound across the top of all of their bear exhibits. Squirrels sometimes wandered up there, usually resulting in the most terrifying experience of their short lives when they looked down to see the massive creatures below them, and birds would sometimes flit around in search of little bits of fish or meat that had been left behind from feeding times.

But the figure perched above them was far too large to be a bird or a squirrel. Her first bizarre thought was that some poor lost deer from the nearby woods had managed to trap itself on the ledge. Then she realized, with an awful lurch, that the creature up there was too tall to be a deer, that what she thought was beige fur was actually a T-shirt, that he was standing on two legs, and that the animal up there was a _human_.

 “Hey!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, panic jumping in her veins. “Get down from there! Please!”

 Liam jerked to attention behind her, staring at her uncomprehendingly as he tried to make sense of what she’d said and who she was addressing. The man above the bears jumped in surprise – a dangerous action so close to such a sheer drop – and then began to move even faster, scrambling to position himself directly above the swimming pool in the polar bear exhibit. Donner, lazing near the water’s edge, looked up interestedly at the intruder.

And she was running , desperately running, but as the man inched closer to the edge, she knew she wouldn’t have time to make it around the bear enclosures, through the gate, up the ramp, before –

He jumped.

In so many of the books she’d read, the characters were said to hang, suspended, in midair for a moment before they fell, but the doom that was waiting below him seemed to drag the man straight down. He landed in the water with a loud splash and a sickening crack – his arm had clipped the concrete edge as he fell, and it was torn to the side at a grotesque angle as he screamed and screamed and screamed.

Myka felt herself slowing, her legs freezing and locking her in place as she juddered to a halt in front of the bars that wrapped around the cage. They towered a good twelve feet straight into the air, far too high for a bear (much less an injured human) to have a prayer of escaping from their confines.  Liam drew up short behind her, but she scarcely noticed: Donner, after giving a startled grunt, had heaved himself to his feet and was approaching the intruder with his ears back and teeth bared. “Holy God,” Liam breathed. “Oh shit. Oh shit.” He turned toward her, fear and confusion stark on his features. “Why did he jump?”

By the pool, Donner stood a few feet away from the whimpering man and gave a low, agitated growl. If Myka had learned anything from the educational videos Pete and Artie played for kids at the zoo, it was that growling usually precipitated violence, and violence from a nine hundred-pound boar polar bear... She didn’t even want to think about what that would mean.

Jarred back into action, Myka snatched at Liam’s arm. “Tranq Donner – tranq him now. I’m going to get to the ledge and –” She gestured wildly, hoping to convey her intent to somehow pull the man out of harm’s way. Liam nodded and Myka sprinted off, leaving him pulling his tranquilizer gun from his belt.

Around the black bear enclosure, where Tecumseh was sitting with his stumpy ears perked at the commotion next door. Through the gate, whose doors swung idly on their hinges. (Oh God, oh God, that was her fault, wasn’t it?) Her feet pounded up the ramp; her breath tore from her throat in exhaustion and terror. By the time she reached the ledge and was standing where the man had jumped a few frantic moments earlier, Donner had three tranquilizer darts buried in his side and his jaws around the trespasser’s arm. Slowly but surely, in sporadic yanks that left his captive writhing in agony, Donnger was pulling him into his den. Once that happened, Myka realized instantly, there would be no saving him. The tranquilizers would kick in after a few minutes, but by the he could very well be dead.

Below her, Liam seemed to have drawn the same conclusion. The dart gun clattered to the ground as he fumbled in his holster and, hands trembling slightly, withdrew his handgun. He stared at Donner, just a few yards from the safety of the den, and then his eyes caught hers. His gaze was pleading, begging her for benediction.

Myka took a deep, shuddering breath. The scene below was not one of a vicious beast tearing into its helpless prey to her. She saw a sweet-natured animal she had known for years reacting with fear to an intruder that had no right to plunge so loudly and violently into his territory. It wasn’t his fault. He was _scared_. The big dopey bear that could crush a human skull with one idle blow from his paw was just frightened. Could tell Liam to pull the trigger? Could she say that one life was more worth saving?

“Do it.”

Myka squeezed her eyes shut. The sound of a single shot roared through the air. There was silence.

After a moment, a ragged cry from below caused her to look down. Donner had collapsed over the man’s injured arm, pinning him to the ground. He twisted, trying to free himself, but the bear’s weight was too great. He sank back to his prone position with a shrill sob.

From a dark hole just above Donner’s right eye, a sluggish trickle of blood dripped down his face to puddle quietly below his chin, staining his pale fur. His sweet brown eyes were open and vacant, far duller than the pool of scarlet that gleamed beneath them.

“Help,” the man called weakly. “God, help.”

“Stay where you are,” Myka told him dispassionately. Reaching for the emergency ladder strapped to the wall, she began to unfold it with numb fingers.

                Liam joined her as she was lowering it over the edge. “Is it safe? To go down there?” He wouldn’t meet or eyes or look over at Donner, instead staring determinedly at his shoes.

                “Eleanor is locked in her den overnight. She hasn’t been let out yet.” Myka clenched an unclenched her fists as she thought about Donner’s mate, not caring about the half-moon marks her nails were pressing into her palms. Could you call an animal a widow? “I need you to call emergency services. And Artie. I’m going down.” Without bothering to look up to see his jerky nod, she began her descent.

                The man was lying very still when she arrived at his side, his shallow breathing the only indication that he was even alive. She crouched beside him, studying his bloody arm, unsure of what to say to him. Was he suicidal? Was that why he’d jumped? Part of Myka pitied him for being driven to that point, but another part of her hated him, wholly and completely, for choosing to risk the life of proud, happy, beautiful Donner in the process. “Help is coming,” she said eventually, her voice raw, but he barely stirred.

                She watched him for a few moments more, but soon pushed herself to her feet. Stepping carefully over Donner’s outflung paw, she knelt by his side and slowly, reverently, placed her hand on his shoulder.

                Artie found her there when he arrived a few minutes later, his khaki uniform buttoned haphazardly over his pajama shirt. It was, she remembered with a twinge, supposed to be his day off. “What happened?” he moaned, horror chasing the sleep from his eyes. And as the sound of sirens picked up in the distance, Myka thought she would never truly understand what had transpired herself.

                Even if she someday did, she knew that she’d be able to forgive herself for her part in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something that actually happened at the Henry Vilas Zoo in Madison. A polar bear named Chief had to be shot when some guy jumped into his cage and almost got himself killed. It's very sad stuff. Anyway, that was some action, huh? I hope it wasn't too gross.


	7. Morning

It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but Myka wanted nothing more than to go home, crawl under her blanket, and sleep until the next day.

That, however, was impossible. Everyone had questions to be answered – Artie, the paramedics, the police, and the rest of the zookeeping team – and Liam had immediately been pulled aside by the investigators, leaving her to face the onslaught of queries alone. At last, after being interrogated for what felt like several eternities, Myka had been left alone by the authorities – only to be pounced upon by a grieving coworker.

“Why?” Pete demanded, hands clenched into fists around the bars of Donner’s cage. He was shaking with rage, truly shaking, and Amanda immediately placed a soothing hand on his back to quell the tremors.

The two of them had apparently been spending the night together (not that that was shocking), and she’d decided to come with him to the zoo to provide support when she’d heard the news. Working in politics, Myka supposed she was well acquainted with handling disaster. Even if her skills didn’t come in handy, Myka just liked having her around. There was a steadiness to Amanda, a confidence and surety that was just what she needed in the tumult of their current situation.

Much of the comfort that her presence brought, however, was negated by Pete’s agitation. “Why’d the bastard do it?” He stared into the enclosure, where Doctor Calder was bent over the bear’s still form. Necropsies were zoo policy in the case of sudden deaths, and animals on the far side of five hundred pounds were usually examined on-site in order to avoid the hassle of hauling them to the lab. Myka thought the whole thing was pointless. The cause of death was all too clear. 

“We don’t know why he did it, Pete,” Amanda told him. “And the ‘why’ doesn’t matter right now. We need to focus on what we’re going to do.”

In front of them, Vanessa put away a few pieces of her equipment and reached over to drag the grey tarp she’d brought with her over Donner’s body. Myka found her eyes drawn to the tinge of scarlet lapping at the edge of the plastic sheet. Feeling sick, she forced herself to look away.

“How can you be so calm about this?” Pete angrily shrugged her hand off of him, turning to glare at her. “One of our animals _died_ , Amanda. This isn’t some little screw-up in the mayor’s policy agenda. This is big.”

“Pete,” Myka rebuked him. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“And you!” Pete rounded on her. “How can you act like this is nothing? That’s _Donner_ – our bear! – down there. He’s _dead_.”

And Myka felt her own rage building within her, her own dams about to break. “I know that!” It was the loudest her voice had been for more than an hour, since she’d screamed at the man not to jump. “Pete, you weren’t there. You didn’t see him. You didn’t have to tell Liam to – to kill him!” The fury and guilt came pouring out of her like oil from a ruptured pipe, slicking her words and drenching every breath. “It wasn’t _your_ fault.”

“Hey.” Pete’s voice was suddenly softer, appeasing, and he looked ashamed of himself. It was almost enough for Myka to forgive him. Pete had his bond with the animals – he felt their feelings, loved them like children. Losing Donner was breaking his heart. “It’s not your fault, Myka. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I just… God, how could this happen?”

Instead of answering him, Myka turned away.

Artie called an emergency meeting for the zoo’s main staff as soon as the police and ambulance had cleared out, declaring that the zoo would have to be closed for a day while they dealt with the fallout of the morning’s events. And so Artie, Pete, Myka, Claudia, Steve, Leena, Helena, and Amanda (who had simply decided to join in, to nobody’s complaint) were packed into the staff room, sitting on rickety chairs or leaning against the wall, with various expressions of grief and shock on their faces.

Artie cleared his throat. “As you are all aware, there was an incident this morning,” he began. “Somebody – we don’t know who yet – jumped into the polar bear exhibit and was attacked by Donner, our male polar bear. Liam had to, uh, fatally incapacitate Donner in order to save the man’s life.”

“Where is Liam?” Steve asked quickly, his face pale but his voice steady.

“He had to go with the police to the station. I told him he could go home after. He’s been through a lot.” Steve nodded, still looking worried, and Artie continued. “Vaness- Doctor Calder is running a few tests at the lab, but she informed me that her necropsy results indicate that-that it was quick.” He looked at Myka as he said this, pity in his gaze, but she refused to meet his eyes.

Claudia raised a timid hand. “Soooo… what happens now?”

“Damage control,” Amanda replied immediately. Everyone looked surprised that she had spoken, and she gave a small shrug under strange looks they all gave her before elaborating. “Look, I know that this is a major tragedy for you all, and I’m sorry. But you need to think about what this means for the zoo as a whole.”

“Amanda-“ Pete began, sounded aggrieved, but Claudia cut him off.

“No, she’s right. I mean, who’s gonna want to visit the zoo where a guy almost died and we had to shoot an animal to keep it from killing him?”

Amanda nodded in agreement. “Your public image is going to need a lot of work.”

“Guys, is this really the time?” Pete asked. “We just lost Donner. Liam is gone. Even Myka is in shock.”

Myka, who had spent the entire conversation staring blankly at the far wall, looked up in bewilderment. “Pete, I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t,” he insisted. “Myka, you’re a mess. You just saw something awful, and you’ve got blood on your hands.”

“I know,” she whispered, voice breaking. “It’s my fault. All of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Myka, what are you-“

“I left the bears’ gate open last night!” she murmured, eyes downcast. “I was tired, I forgot to shut it, or lock it – I just left it there. That’s how he got in. Because of me.” A stunned silence greeted her announcement as everyone in the room looked at her with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” Myka finished. “I just… I’m sorry.”

“Myka…” Pete said weakly. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What?”

“Your hands – they actually have blood on them. That’s what I was saying.”

“Oh.” Myka looked down at the dark stains encrusted on her palms and swallowed hard.

“It was an accident, Myka,” Leena murmured from across the room. “You didn’t mean for this to happen.”

And suddenly the air was full of excuses they were making for her, attempts to make what had happened not her fault, and Myka loved her friends, loved them all, but right now she hated them for denying the complete and utter stupidity and heinousness of her actions. Giving a low sob that she knew only she could hear, she buried her head in her hands.

And then, from beside her, came the voice of the only person who had not spoken yet. “If that’s all right with all of you, I propose that we conclude this meeting and take some time to recover.” Pushing her fingers apart, Myka peeked between them to see Helena standing just a few feet away, addressing the room as a whole.

“Definitely,” Claudia said, looking so exhausted that Myka could hardly believe she was the same hyperactive girl from a few hours earlier who had gushed over the plans for the aviary with her. “I second that. Or whatever.”

“Me too.” Steve jumped quickly to his feet. “I want to go check on Liam.” Claudia gave him an “oh really” look that was just a fraction of its usual potency but still enough to make Steve blush. “Just to make sure he’s okay!”

Everyone else made sounds of agreement and Artie huffed out a sigh. “Alright. You can’t all go home, though. Pete, I need you here. If Amanda wouldn’t mind staying to talk more about that “public appearance” business, I’d appreciate her help. Claudia, I want you to stay, and Helena… where are you going?”

For Helena was already at the door, pulling it open and holding it ajar. “I’m taking Myka home,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Myka blinked in surprise, but Pete nodded immediately. “Sounds good. Thanks, H.G.” When she stared at him, he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Myka, you’re not in a good place right now. You’re upset. Let H.G. drive you home. Artie needs me here – if I can’t look out for you, let her do it instead.” The look her gave her, full of compassion and forgiveness and sorrow, cut right into her heart. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded once and stepped away to where Helena was waiting at the door.

The walk to the exit was mercifully short and devoid of conversation, and at the end of it, Helena’s car turned out to be a cute little electric model of a brand Myka didn’t recognize. “Wow,” Myka said, laughing in spite of herself as Helena fumbled with the keys. “How’d you get the money for this with a zoo worker’s salary?”

“Chester paid fairly well,” Helena said, shrugging as she popped open the door and gestured for Myka to get in. “And I sold some things from my old home when I came here.” Her voice took on the forced casualness that Myka had come to associate with any mention of her past, Myka noted with sadness.

“It’s a nice car,” she said, hoping to bring her attention back to earth. Not that the present moment was exactly a pleasant place, but there was something to be said for remaining grounded in a crisis.

Helena seemed all too eager to focus on another subject. “It is marvelous, isn’t it?” she enthused, eyes bright. “Such an ingenious invention – much less expensive to maintain that something like that.” Securing her seatbelt with one hand, she waved the other disdainfully in the direction of a dark SUV parked nearby.

“That’s Pete’s car,” Myka informed her, suppressing a smile at the way Helena’s eyes narrowed. She felt calmer outside the zoo’s gates, with the carnage out of sight and her hands scrubbed clean after a brief detour to the bathroom. She could almost ignore the bloodstains of her khaki uniform. Almost.

Her eyes wandered to the vehicle farthest from the zoo entrance as Helena pulled out, the one she hadn’t recognized that morning. The uniformed officer rummaging around in its trunk glanced up briefly as they drove past. “The man who jumped,” Myka whispered. “That’s his car.”

Helena said nothing, simply tightened her jaw and poured on a bit more speed as they peeled into the street.

They drove in silence for a while. Helena offered to turn on the radio, but Myka declined. The sky was overcast above them, and in the dim quiet of the car, Myka could feel the tension slowly leaking out of her. By the time they’d entered Myka’s neighborhood and she’d directed Helena to her apartment building, she felt as stretched-out and limp as a deflated balloon.

“Well, thanks,” she said somewhat awkwardly as Helena pulled up to the curb. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” She pushed the door open and slid out, only to turn and see Helena doing the same on the other side.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Myka,” Helena said briskly. “I told Pete that I would take care of you.”

”Yes, but…”

“I hardly think that leaving you alone, unfed, and without any means of transportation is an example of excellent caretaking.”

“Pete and Amanda are going to bring my car over later,” Myka protested.

“And what will you do until then?”

“I’ll stay at home.”

“Alone?”

“I-”

“Myka.” Taking a step closer, Helena set a gentle hand on her arm. Myka thought she could feel its heat through her coat, her skin, all the way down to her bones. “If you don’t want me here, I will go. I just thought you might not want to be by yourself.”

Myka didn’t have anything to say to that. Helena would be a distraction from memories of the morning. Tomorrow, they would all have to deal with the fallout. Not today. Not tonight.

So she reached over, grasped the hand that was on her elbow, and gave a tight nod. Together, the two of them walked through the front doors.


	8. Watercolor

Since her building’s elevator was slow and smelled of sour milk, Myka almost always opted to take the stairs to her apartment. Helena didn’t seem to mind when Myka steered them to the staircase instead of the dull metal doors of the elevator, though she did give a relieved sigh when Myka moved out of the stairwell and into the hallway after just two flights.

 From there, it was just a short walk to Myka’s apartment. She racked her brains for a way to explain the state of her apartment as she dug in her pockets for her keys, but she hadn’t thought of anything by the time she’d gotten the door unlocked. Sighing in resignation, she heaved her shoulder forcefully into its wooden frame so that it popped open with a creak of complaint. “It sticks,” she explained to Helena in response to the other woman’s inquiring look. “The door – the whole apartment, really – is kind of old.” She turned away to thump the door shut again, wincing at the thought of what Helena must think of her ragged little abode.

When Myka turned around, however, she was smiling. “Your home is lovely, Myka,” Helena told her warmly. She seemed to genuinely mean it, to Myka’s surprise. Myka tended to be a tidy person (or, in Pete’s words, a “neat freak”), but there was only a certain level of cleanliness that her shabby apartment could achieve. Even with everything in its place and all her furniture dusted, there was no missing the stains in the carpet, the scuffs on the floor, the dents in her fridge, and the holes in her couch. Living on a zookeeper’s salary was not an easy thing, she had found.

“Thank you,” she said, taken aback, and watched as Helena walked over to her sagging bookshelf.

“I’m serious, Myka,” Helena assured her, trailing a finger down the spine of a bulky paperback and squinting to read the title. “It’s so lived-in. It’s… comfy.”

Myka shrugged, smiling wryly. “Well, that’s one way to describe it.”

With Helena examining her books, eyes aglow, as Myka marveled at the fact that the woman was in _here_ , in her _home_ , she could almost push the events of the day away and let them settle, dormant, at the back of her mind. But almost, as close as it may be, always means “not quite.” Myka could feel stress and horror pushing down on her shoulders, the exhaustion tugging at her limbs. A glance at the clock revealed that it was just twelve thirty. To her, it felt as if she had been awake for days instead of mere hours.

“Myka?” Helena’s voice was gentle but concerned. Myka realized that she’d slumped against the door and was staring blearily into space.

“Sorry,” she muttered, pushing herself upright. “I was just…” She shook her head. She was tired. Furious. Shocked. Mourning. Guilty. What good would it do to say what Helena already knew?

“Myka, you don’t need to apologize.” Helena approached and laid a cautious hand on her shoulder. “You’ve had quite the morning.” When Myka didn’t move away from her touch, Helena gave her a gentle squeeze. “We could… talk about it. If you’d like. It might help.”

“That’s okay,” Myka told her quickly, detaching herself and stepping aside. “I don’t need – no, thanks.”

“Myka,” Helena said, and now her eyes were not just bright: they were blazing. “It might help you. I can help you. You’ve gone through some trauma today, and it would be good for you to let it out.”

“Helena.” Myka was more than a little perturbed by her insistence. “I just want to eat some lunch and get some rest. Really, I’m fine.”

“Donner was shot right in front of you!” Helena exclaimed. “You were shaking during the meeting Artie called – did you know?”

“No, I…” Myka floundered for a moment before composing herself. “Helena, sometimes animals die. You just have to learn to accept it. I have.”

“Myka, that wasn’t a normal, natural death. It was different.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Myka snapped. The anger that had been lurking within her all day roared to the surface, and she would have been appalled to find herself directing it at Helena if she hadn’t been swept up in its red wave. “Helena, you don’t – you have no idea what it’s like to let something you’re responsible for – something you’ve cared for – die!” Myka was almost panting with emotion, and she even found herself shaking as Helena had sworn she’d done during the meeting; a trembling volcano, erupting with fire.

Helena was the exact opposite, as silent and motionless as if she’d been frozen in place. When she spoke, it was in the whisper of cracking ice: “I do, actually.”

Myka stared at her blankly for a moment, anger ebbing away as confusion flooded in. “What…?”

“My daughter, Christina, had an accident about a year ago,” Helena began, her voice brittle, and Myka felt a dark dread spread into the watercolor mess that comprised her current emotions. “She’d assured me she was a big girl, certainly old enough to walk home from school by herself.” Myka remained silent, fixed with the quiet horror of knowing how the story would end and that she would be powerless to rewrite it. “A man from a bar downtown had had a bit too much to drink when he decided to drive home. He hit her –” And here, for the first time, Helena’s voice broke, though she pushed on “–just three blocks from home.”

“Oh my God,” Myka said softly, staring at the woman before her. Myka herself felt as if she were about to cry, but Helena’s eyes were dry. The worst, Myka realized, was yet to come.

“She was taken to the hospital,” Helena continued, giving no sign that she had heard anything Myka had said. “She had a few broken bones, needed a few stiches. But she would have healed.” Myka watched her silently, waiting for the rest. “The doctors declared her brain-dead an hour after she arrived. There was nothing… they couldn’t help her.”

Suddenly, Myka knew exactly what Helena was going to say next, and she felt the pity and sorrow coiling around her heart even as Helena spoke the words Myka was dreading. “They kept her alive for three days. I was the one to finally ‘pull the plug.’” Her gaze was a thousand miles away; her gaze fixed on a hospital bed and a dead daughter across the sea and time itself. With an apparent effort, she managed to refocus on Myka’s anguished face. “So you’ll have to forgive for saying that I do have some experience with what you’re currently going through, Myka.”

“I’m so sorry,” Myka whispered. “I didn’t know.”

“How could you?” Helena gave her a smile softened by sorrow. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

“You could have talked to me,” Myka told her quietly, and somehow they were just a few inches apart again and she was gripping both of Helena’s arms. “I would have listened; I would have been there for you. I still can be.”

“I know that, Myka. Because talking about these things does help, isn’t that right? A very wise man taught me that.” And the look of understanding she gave her made Myka feel a something like grace inside of her. “You would have done it for me. Let me be here for you.”

Myka nodded just once. “Yes,” she said, and that was all it took for her to give way.

She and Helena talked for hours, stopping only to assemble lunch and then later to throw together something for dinner. They spoke of everything and nothing, of sorrows and joys. Their conversations were as capricious as a tropical sky; thick thunderheads of heavy conversation darkened the air, only to lighten into just a few light wisps a moment later. Myka learned of Christina, Helena’s life in London, and the way she hadn’t been able to bear living there with eight years’ worth of children’s books on the shelves, dolls in the cupboard, handprints smudged on the wall, and memories.

“Christina loved birds,” Helena told her. “She was always so thrilled to come to work with me to see them. She drew me pictures every day – the fridge was covered with toucans and macaws and bee-eaters.” She looked down for a moment, closed her eyes. “I threw them all away. I couldn’t stand to have them there in front of me. I wish I hadn’t now. My apartment could use a bit of color.”

She described how she’d been living in a gray tomb of a flat since moving to the states, wanting to distance herself from a life filled with joyous clutter. Perhaps the reason she had liked Myka’s own place so much was that it was, at least for her, a home in which life could be lived.

In turn, Myka talked about picking up Donner from Sand Diego as a cub during her first month at the zoo and caring for him as he crew from a fluffy white beach ball to a fluffy white truck. “He was so sweet,” she recalled. “He had this ball he loved, this big rubber ball, and one day, he accidentally popped it.” She chuckled at the bittersweet memory. “He was inconsolable. He couldn’t figure out where it had gone, and why it had been replaced with some flat piece of rubber. We had to get him a new one the very next day, since he was so devastated that he wouldn’t eat.”

She also regaled her with a tale of a childhood scurrying around the bookstore like a whipped dog under her father’s stern gaze, and then concluded with her wild story of ditching her pre-med major to become a zoologist, moving to Bristol, working for the Park, making miserable sums of money, and being completely, dazzlingly happy with the life she had lived.

Their talk didn’t end until they had both dropped off to sleep, heads just barely leaning together as they curled into the couch cushions.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god, in-character dialogue will be the death of me. I hope I'm doing okay. Also, apologies for those that expected frick-a-frack action when they went to Myka's place. We'll get there eventually, I promise.


	9. Arena

When Myka awoke, her legs were cramped from being tucked beneath her all night, her arm was pinned to the couch by Helena’s back, and her chin rested on Helena’s shoulder.

She was surprised (but not unpleasantly so) to find herself in such a position until memories from the day before surged into the forefront of her mind, and she squinched her eyes shut against the sudden barrage of emotion that they inspired. When she opened them, she found herself gazing at the smooth cascade of Helena’s hair, gleaming in the morning light that slanted down from her window. She was so beautiful, Myka thought.

“Hey,” she said softly – or tried to, as she quickly realized that a rather unfortunate number of Helena’s gorgeous locks had somehow wound up in her mouth over the course of the night. “He-yetchhh!” was what came out instead, and Helena started against her at the rude awakening.

“Myka,” she murmured, blinking sleepily. “Are you alright?” Arching back in a languid stretch, she detangled herself from her accidental couch-mate in order to better see what had happened.

“I’m fine,” Myka said, feeling a sense of disappointment at the loss of contact but relief at the fact that she hadn’t inadvertently scalped Helena. “I just – while we were sleeping – there was hair…” She grimaced apologetically, spitting out a few remaining strands.

“Ah.” Helena made a face but then winked to show that there were no hard feelings. “Well, I hope that you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your shower, then.”

“Of course,” Myka said quickly. “Sorry about that.”

“Not to worry,” Helena reassured her. “I doubt that you intended to start your morning this way. It can hardly have been a pleasant experience on your end.”

Myka nodded, because getting a mouthful of hair, no matter how pretty the person it belonged to, was gross. But as she hunted through her closet for a spare towel, she couldn’t help but think of how Helena’s hair had smelled of cloves and green tea, of spice and the earth.

After warning Helena that the shower was only capable of producing water of the scalding and arctic varieties and advising her to periodically wiggle the handle between the two extremes to help keep the temperature survivable, Myka sent her off to her dingy bathroom while she brushed her teeth at the kitchen sink and assembled an outfit. An awkward shower tradeoff, a bemoaned lack of breakfast food, and a borrowed pair of socks later, the two of them were as ready as they would ever be to face the day. As strange as it was to have someone else sharing her space, Myka found that it was actually sort of nice to have another person to bustle around with in the morning. It was even better, she decided, to have someone soft and nice to wake up next to.

But now was not the time for daydreams, she knew. There was much to be done to try to amend yesterday’s anguish.

Pete had texted her the night before to tell her that he’d dropped her car off out front, so she and Helena walked out together, peeling the oranges she had scrounged up from the depths of her refrigerator. The sharp tang of citrus banished the stairwell’s usual dank smell as they descended. Helena was a wonderful person to talk to, Myka reflected, but she was also easy to share silences with. There was never any pressure to say something that did not need to be said, and so their chatter never felt obligatory or aimless. They left in just such a quiet, each absorbed in thoughts of the other.

As Helena held the door open for her while they passed into the sunshine, Myka felt herself hesitating at the curb. “Helena,” she said, and the other woman pulled up short and turned to look at her. Myka struggled internally for a moment, coming up with and discarding possible things to say, before finally settling on a quiet but heartfelt “Thanks.”  
                “Of course, Myka,” she answered, and the usual teasing gleam in her eye was gone, replaced by a deep sincerity. “Anytime.”

They hadn’t slept in too late, but they encountered some mild traffic on the way to the park all the same. As irritated as she always was by too-crowded mornings that made finding a parking space difficult, Myka was alarmed to see that none of the vehicles from the morning rush hour followed them to the zoo – in fact, the parking lot was entirely vacant when she arrived except for the cars of her co-workers and a plain white van she assumed belonged to one of their feed distributers. Suddenly Myka was unwilling to enter alone, to walk the empty paths and cross the deserted zoo by herself. So she waited, staring at the padlock strapped across the front gate until Helena arrived a few moments later.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, Myka,” she commented as she clambered out of her car. She was beaming, however. “Though I do appreciate the gesture.”

“Well –” Myka began, a smile of her own creeping to her lips, but she found herself unexpectedly cut off by a voice from behind her.

“Hello there!” The woman spoke with a distinctive, nasal twang, and as she spun to face her, Myka immediately noted her slightly upturned nose and the wide grin plastered across her mouth. “Myka, is it?” Thrusting her hand forward, she latched onto Myka’s and shook it aggressively. “I’m Sally Stukowski.”

“Hi,” Myka said, sharing a bewildered look with Helena that Sally cheerfully ignored. “Sorry, but the zoo is closed today.”

“Oh, I know that!” Sally brayed out a laugh. “I’m just here to find out why.” Plucking up the laminated badge that hung around her neck, she carelessly flashed her press ID before her. “I’m with Bristol News Broadcasting, and I have a few questions to ask you about the events that occurred yesterday morning at this park.” Her voice had snapped from falsely sunny to businesslike in an instant, and Myka could only gape as she pulled a microphone from out of nowhere and jammed it into her  face.

“What are you talking about? You’re… a reporter?”

“That’s right!” Sally trilled. “BOYS! Come here!” From behind the white van Myka had spotted earlier, two men laden with camera equipment trooped out. Sally gave the taller one a sharp nod, and he settled the camera on his shoulder and flicked on a switch at its side. “This is Sally Stukowski,” she began in a voice that was heavy with artificial sorrow. “I’m reporting from Bristol Park, where yesterday a man was mauled violently by one of the zoo’s polar bears before said bear was gunned down.” The look of intense solemnity remained on her face as she turned from the camera to look at Myka, but Myka thought she could see a sort of vicious pleasure buried beneath her composed exterior. “I have here with me Myka Bering, the zookeeper on-scene during the tragic incident. Myka, can you explain why a man was able to access such a dangerous animal?”

Myka stood frozen like a deer in the headlights, squinting into camera’s lens as Sally’s microphone pressed uncomfortably into the soft skin of her throat. “I –it wasn’t like that. He jumped –”

“Why did you have the bear shot instead of attempting a non-lethal rescue?” Sally fired back before she could finish. Myka knew that the reporter was doing it on purpose, that she was trying to throw her off, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she were drowning in the flood of accusations.

“We did! We tried! But tranquilizers take a long time to take effect – he could have been killed while –”

“Do you believe that Bristol Park should be permanently shut down due to this tragedy?”

“I… What? No! Why would that happen?”

“Are you aware that mayoral candidate Perrin Celcus has declared his intention to close the zoo due to its unsafe conditions and inability to provide for its animals?”

Myka felt as if somebody had physically punched her in the stomach; all the air rushed out of her lungs and she almost bent over to be sick on the pavement. “No, I didn’t. He can’t. That’s not true.”

Sally opened her mouth to spew out another round of questions, and Myka knew that she couldn’t take another second of being battered with her words. But Helena was there, her eyes ablaze with fury as she pushed aside the cameras and strode over to take Myka by the arm. “No comment,” she snapped, dragging a dazed Myka over to the gate and hurriedly yanking off the chain that bound the gates shut. “I said, bugger off!” she shouted as Sally swooped after her with the microphone and the cameramen crept closer. “No comment!” Kicking the gate closed, she tugged Myka as quickly as she could down the path.

“How did she know?” Myka whispered once they had gotten far enough away that Sally’s continual shouting could only faintly be heard. “How did she know I was there? And about the mayor?” Halting, she seized Helena’s other arm and spun her so that they were standing face-to-face, hands clasped around her wrists. “Oh my God, Helena. Do you think it’s true?”

“I don’t know.” Helena’s face softened with pity in the face of Myka’s distress. She gripped Myka’s forearms fiercely, giving her a comforting squeeze. “She could have been lying, trying to provoke a reaction.”

“You’re right.” Myka sighed, sagging a bit as she recalled everything the impudent reporter had claimed. “We need to tell the others.”

The two of them actually dashed to the staff center, causing animals across the zoo to look up with interest as they sped by. By the time they arrived at the conference room to see that all their coworkers were already there, they were both panting and clutching at stiches in their sides.

“Guys. Thank goodness you’re here,” Claudia said as soon as they clattered to a stop in the doorway. “Amanda’s just been filling us in – apparently we have a big problem.”

Glancing around at the grim faces filling the room, Myka’s heart sank as she realized that every hateful thing Stukowski had said was true. “I think we already know,” she said heavily, and it took all the willpower she had not to bury her head in her hands and cry.

“About Celcus?” Amanda asked, cocking her head in disbelief. Myka nodded. “How could you? I just heard it through the political grapevine – he hasn’t even given a formal press release yet.”

“I’m afraid that it was the press itself that released it to us,” Helena told her. “We ran into some dreadful woman just outside the park – she jumped on Myka with the cameras rolling and started rattling off questions before either of us could even blink.”

“Dammit,” Artie growled. “It was that Stukowski woman, wasn’t it? We caught her trying to sneak in here earlier – I told her to get out of my park and to take her cameras with her.”

“Yeah, and I told her just where she could put that microphone of hers,” Pete added darkly.

“She ambushed us outside of the gates,” Myka put in. “Not technically inside the zoo, so you can’t get her in trouble for trespassing.”

“Loitering?” Claudia asked hopefully, but Amanda shook her head.

“I’ve had a lot of experience with reporters – they’re very good at getting into places they shouldn’t be and seem to have half a dozen laws that say they’re allowed to do whatever they want. Besides, we’ve got bigger fish to fry right now.”

“Celcus?” Claudia asked despairingly. “He’s not really a fish so much as a whale. Not a good size for frying.”

“Maybe we just need more oil,” Pete suggested. “I mean, we can fight him. It’s just his word against the zoo that everyone loves.”

“ _Loved_ ,” Claudia corrected. “That was before the big bear attack thing. That sort of thing tends to put a damper on people’s enthusiasm for a place.”

“You guys are forgetting something,” Amanda cut in. “Pete, remember that line the long-haired hippie Jedi says in _Star Wars_ when their boat is getting chased by that sea monster?”

“First of all, that’s Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master and _not_ hippie. Secondly, the quote is, ‘there’s always a bigger fish.’ Thirdly, what does _Star Wars_ have to do with anything?”

“There’s always a bigger fish,” Amanda repeated musingly, ignoring his last comment. “Everyone, perhaps it’s time to get some help from a friend of mine.”

“Is he a bigger fish?” Steve asked hopefully, and Amanda’s face broke into a confident smile.

“The biggest. I can have him here within the hour – after all, I am his chief advisor. How would you like to see if we can get Adwin Kosan down here to give a statement fully supporting Bristol Park?”

“You’re going to pit the two candidates for mayor against each other over the zoo?” Leena asked, amazed.

Amanda nodded in satisfaction. “Yes. You may all know how to handle elephant poop and feed monkeys, but now this is my arena. It’s time to get political.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have a great respect for reporters and journalists, but they can act despicably sometimes when they follow an agenda with a preconceived bias. Also, I just really wanted to have Sally say "boys!" again, because I love how she says it in the show. Perrin Celcus, if you couldn't tell, is Paracelcus. I just didn't think anyone would take him seriously with his in-show name. Anthony Head is fricking amazing and I loved him as a villain, plus I don't often see Paracelcus in fanfics.


	10. Plans

The next tactical meeting (as Pete insisted on calling them) was held two days later. “Our priority right now,” Amanda told them, “is to get Kosan on our side. Now that Celcus has drawn a line in the sand, Kosan has three choices: agree with him, stand against him, or refuse to comment on the issue.”

Steve sighed from his position by the computer desk, where Claudia was, as always, tapping away with one ear on the conversation. “So he can just say nothing? That sounds like kind of a copout.”

“Copouts alienate fewer voters than a widely-publicized controversial opinion,” Amanda pointed out. “But in this case, I’d say the zoo is too much of a hot topic for him to get away with ignoring it. People are going to want to know his stance.”

“And that needs to be with us,” Helena concluded. “Goodness, you Americans do love your politics. I certainly didn’t imagine having to participate in a campaign when I came here.”

“Maybe we just want to prevent that whole ‘taxation without representation’ deal from repeating itself,” Pete shot back. Helena narrowed her eyes at him as he smirked goofily.

Sensing that the two of them would somehow manage to restart the Revolutionary War if she allowed them to continue, Myka quickly jumped into the conversation.  “So how are we planning on winning him over?”

“We could bribe him,” Claudia suggested. “Only we don’t have any money. Ooh! Or blackmail! I’d be really good at blackmail.”

Amanda made a face. “I don’t think either is an option. Bribes and blackmail aren’t nearly as effective as most people imagine – they mostly just get you into a lot of trouble. No, we need another strategy.”

“A petition?”

“A protest?”

“Some good ol’ fashioned begging and pleading?”

Amanda shook her head at Steve and Myka’s suggestions and rolled her eyes at Pete’s. The group of them sat in frustrated silence for a few moments, each racking their brains for some hint of what to do. Then, from the corner of the room, Leena spoke up.

“We can make defending the zoo help him politically.” As they always did when she spoke, everyone ceased any fidgeting or whispering amongst themselves (Claudia even paused in her typing) to hear what she had to say. There was a quiet wisdom to Leena that all of them knew should never go unheard. “We can paint him as a hero, protecting a public park loved by everyone. It would help his image.”

Amanda nodded slowly, and then faster and more enthusiastically as she thought through Leena’s idea. “That could work. That could really work. If we convince him that it will help his image and show him that the zoo is harmless, he’ll back us up because it’ll help his image and it’s the right thing to do.”

“So he’s an honest politician?” Claudia asked skeptically, quirking an eyebrow. “I always thought that was an oxymoron. Since when do elected officials do ‘the right thing’?”

“Claudia,” Myka chided. We need this man’s help if we want to save the zoo.”

“Hey, if he helps us out, I won’t care if he’s the slimiest scumbag of a statesman in the country. I just hate authority figures as a general rule. It’s a young people thing.”

“I think it’s a _you_ thing,” Steve corrected her, and she swatted at him with a clipboard before tossing it over to Helena.

“This is for you, bee tee dubs,” she told her as Helena fumbled to catch it. “You’ve gotta go meet with our contractor to talk building plans.”

“I can come with,” Myka suggested. “Artie’s still on the phone with the Zoological Association in his office, but I know most of the building information we’ll need.”

“Righty-ho, then,” Helena said. “When are we supposed to meet him?”

“At the aviary in five minutes, so scoot!” With that, Claudia shooed them out the door while the remaining crew again began to discuss how to win over the mayoral candidate to their side.

Together, Myka and Helena began the walk to the aviary, bantering about the American political system and Claudia’s dubious understanding of the English language as they went. It was easy, being around her, with the way their conversation flowed between them so effortlessly and how their intellects seemed to be perfectly matched in speed and depth. Myka could talk with her for hours, for days – but that was part of the problem, because it was also just so _hard_ to be around her. Helena left Myka dazzled. Starstruck. Enraptured. Maybe, just maybe, a little in love.

Something had changed between them after the night Helena had spent at Myka’s house. They both acted as if they’d spent the night doing something far less dull than accidentally drifting off together, and Myka knew that they were being ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. That night had been on her mind every day that had passed since, but she still couldn’t decide how to feel about it. Did she wish they had done something more? No, she didn’t – she was sure about that. They’d poured their hearts out and were grieving together. It would have felt wrong to do anything then.

But did she want to fall asleep beside Helena again, but this time with her warm and reverent hands tangled in her raven hair and their bodies pressed so close that they were one?

Myka was spared from finding an answer to that question by their arrival at the aviary. A man with the squat build of a badger was waiting there for them, taking in the measure of the building with a critical eye. “Mr. Valda,” Helena said, inclining her head in greeting. “I hope this early hour wasn’t too inconvenient for you.”

“It is what it is,” Valda said dismissively. “This is the building you want, right?”

“Yes,” Myka affirmed. “We want to add on another section to the left side.”

“How much did you want to add on?” He asked, inspecting the area she’d indicated. “You have some room to work with.”

“Well, it’s for some larger birds,” Helena told him. “A dozen parrots and cockatoos.”

Valda muttered something along the lines of “for God’s sake” under his breath. “No offense, miss, but cockatoos aren’t a widely accepted unit of measure in my line of work.”

Helena gave him a swift scorching glance as Myka struggled to not to smile. “We’ve got a grant to for a hundred thousand. More space would be good, but as long as the birds have enough room to move, the exact size of the structure depends on how far our budget stretches.”

“So, in short, we need enough space for _a dozen parrots and cockatoos_ ,” Helena said triumphantly. Valda looked as if he would very much like to throttle her.

“So you’ll bring your team back here to start work tomorrow?” Myka asked hopefully. This project had been a long time coming, and there was a great sense of satisfaction that came with their efforts finally reaching some sort of tangible fruition.

“Yep. It’s – what, halfway through September now? – but we should be done before winter if we work fast and stick to the schedule.”

“Great, thanks,” Myka said, and she reached out to shake his hand. “I look forward to working together on this.” Helena snorted behind her, but Myka paid her no mind. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to-”

“Hang on a minute,” Valda interrupted her, craning his neck to peer over her shoulder. “Who’s that bloke?”

Myka spun around to see Artie jogging toward them as fast as he was able. “Uh-oh,” she murmured. When Artie moved quickly, it meant that something was wrong. Myka had never even seen him _jog_ before.

By the time he arrived, he was panting heavily and clutching a stich in his side. “Wait,” he gasped. “I have – to talk – contractor…”

“Mr. Valda is right here,” Myka informed him anxiously. “Artie, is everything all right?”

“Just – talked – Mrs. Frederick. The Association voted – revoked the grant.”

“What?” Myka demanded. “They can’t just back out on us like that without warning!”

“It’s just business to them,” Artie said bitterly, taking a few deep breaths. “They aren’t sure if we’re going to be shut down over the whole… incident, and they don’t want to spend money on a zoo that might not exist in a few months.”

“But… but… they can’t,” Myka said rather lamely. “Is there anything we can do?” Artie shook his head grimly and Myka began to tug at her hair in aggravation.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Valda cut in. “Your grant is gone? So the whole project is off?”

“I don’t – yes. I guess so,” Myka admitted.

“Well then, I’m going. I’ve got other clients that actually need me to build something.”

“Wait!” Myka called desperately. “We’ll make the Zoological Association give it back as soon as we can. We still need you!”

“Look, miss. Even if you can get your precious grant back within the month, there’s no way we’ll finish construction before the snow starts coming down. From what I can tell, you can’t even pay for the consulting meeting we just had.” When Myka looked down at her feet, ashamed, he let out a sigh. “Forget about it, then. You lot look like you’ll need every penny to keep this place on its feet.” With that, he took off down the path without a backwards glance.

The three of them simply stood there, contemplating what the Association’s decision meant for the future of the zoo. Even if it wasn’t what the board had meant, it felt an awful lot as if they were abandoning Bristol Park before the fight had even started.

“You know what I’ve decided?” Helena said sullenly. “I really, really hate politics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! My knowledge of politics comes from a few high school classes, Tumblr, and watching the movie "Milk" an ungodly number of times, so please pardon any inaccuracies.


	11. Waiting

It took almost two hours for the full implications of losing the funds to really sink in for Myka. She was tossing fish to the happily barking sea lions, wondering idly where Helena was, when the final realization hit her with all the subtlety of a hammer. She froze for a moment, hand suspended comically in mid-throw with a herring clenched between her fingers.

If the funding was gone, did that mean that Helena would go too?

It took the impatient bawling of Robert and Emily to rouse her from her dread-filled stupor. Hastily shoveling the rest of the fish into their eager mouths, she stowed away the bucket and took off for the staff center, mind whirling. Helena had been the sole person in charge of caring for their birds in the month and a half that she had spent with them, but her primary job had been to help prepare for the expansion of the aviary. With that duty suddenly made pointless, would she be deemed unnecessary to the zoo’s operations and be sent away?

There was only one person who could answer that question, and Myka made haste toward his office. When she knocked on Artie’s door, however, she found herself surprised (and a bit worried) when Helena was the one to answer it. “Hello, Myka,” she said, giving her a somewhat strained smile. “I’m sorry, but Artie is –”

                “Myka, is that you?” Artie shouted from inside. “What is it?  
                “I need to talk to you.” Myka sidestepped Helena to move into the room, to which the other woman shook her head helplessly but allowed her through. “About the aviary.”

                “Oh,” Artie harrumphed. “Miss Wells and I were just talking about that. It appears that work on the building has been delayed indefinitely.”

                “Artie and I,” Helena said delicately. “Were also discussing my role here.”

                “What is there to discuss?” Myka asked, heart sinking. She reached out to grasp Helena’s arm, pulling her so that they were face-to-face and then lowering her voice. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

                Helena wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. “It appears I may not have a choice.” And her smile, meant to be as fearless and teasing as ever, was so brittle that Myka thought it would break apart right there.

                “Helena isn’t going anywhere,” Myka said, and the firmness of her voice surprised all of them. Helena looked at her with a sort of uncertain hope, while Artie’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.

                “That’s not your decision, Myka,” Artie began, trying for soothing but failing to placate her in the slightest. “We need to look at our choices and decide what is best for this zoo.”

                “ _Helena_ is best for this zoo!” Myka bit out. “She’s worked so hard!  She’s done so much for this place! Don’t you dare try to pretend otherwise.”

                Artie looked completely taken aback at her tone, and Myka thought she understood why. She was usually the one who got along best with Artie – she was the one that listened to instructions and followed protocol. In fact, she couldn’t recall a single instance in which she’d ever had a major disagreement with him, much less a full-blown argument.

                Until now.

                “Myka,” Artie tried again, but she would have none of it.

                “No, Artie. It’s just not going to happen.” Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she gave him her most pleading look. “Come on, Artie. Do you really want to do this?”

                Sighing in defeat, Artie looked down at his feet and grumbled out his answer: “No, I don’t.” Myka felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Helena staring at her with disbelievingly, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether to thank her or tell her to leave. Before either of them could say anything, however, Artie spoke up again. “But it’s not up to me. The Zoological Association has the final word, and I think it’s safe to say that they are not the biggest fans of our zoo right now.”

                “I can talk to them,” Myka said quickly. “I’ll write them a letter telling them everything. Once they see how much we need her, they won’t be able to say no.”

                Artie grimaced. “You can try.”

                Nodding thankfully and refusing to acknowledge his less-than-comforting response, Myka stepped from the room and strode quickly down the hall. There was much to be done – the zoo was opening the next day for the first time since the accident, and she had a lot of prep work to do – but this was important.

                “Myka, wait,” she heard the other woman call from back down the hallway, and Myka halted to let her catch up. “Thank you,” Helena said breathlessly once she arrived at Myka’s side. “You may have just saved my job here. I – I enjoy working with you, Myka. I would hate to leave this place.” Helena was the sort of person that was always in control, always composed. Seeing the raw gratitude shining in her eyes, Myka wasn’t quite sure what to say.

                “Don’t thank me yet,” she told her eventually, and Helena gave her a nod of understanding that still conveyed how strongly she believed that Myka would come through for her.

                For the rest of the day, as she hosed down elephants and mixed vitamins into lizard food, her mind was busy composing her letter. She got ahold of Claudia, Pete, and Leena, and the three of them promised to lend their support, but Myka knew that most of the burden of convincing the Association rested on her shoulders alone.

                So she worked all day with her mind in two pieces, one focusing on taking care of the animals and the other bent on coming up with her written report. It took hours for her to properly assemble a plan, but as she was shredding lettuce for the tortoises in her final duty for the day, she felt a bit of hope bubbling up inside her that maybe, just maybe, she could do it.

                Myka was always one of the last people to leave the park, often staying late to take care of some of the paperwork Pete was so terrible at filling out, but that day she tore out of the parking lot well before any of the others had even stepped through the zoo’s gates. At home in her cramped apartment, she immediately settled herself in front of the computer with a cup of soup and the outline she’d scribbled down on a notepad. Glancing over her scattered notes, she set to work.

                Aside from zoo paperwork detailing the health and behavior of their charges, Myka’s job didn’t often require much writing. Most communication within the zoo was done in person or achieved through short, informal emails, while the work itself obviously did not involve sitting in a cubicle and typing up essays. In this way, Myka was at a disadvantage – or would have been, if she hadn’t lived her entire childhood in a bookstore and attempted to write her first novel at the age of twelve.

                Writing came as naturally as breathing to Myka, though her work left her with little time to do so. She could spin out words the way Leena could breathe life into plants and Claudia could program circles around anyone (and yes, even the way Pete could inhale an inhuman amount of nachos). It was a skill that had never left her, even though she had long given up dreams of being a bestselling author. But never in her life had anything depended so much on her words as Helena did then. It would have made her nervous, if her mind hadn’t been honed down into a razor sharp point of concentration. She would do this, she knew, even if it took everything she had.

                Thankfully, it didn’t, though Myka did have to go through four cups of tea, half a package of Twizzlers, and more than three hours of hard labor to finish her report. Even then, as she looked over the four pages she had written, it didn’t seem like nearly enough – but she was out of time. It had to be.

                Swallowing hard, Myka saved her document, typed up a brief introductory email to attach it to, and prepared to send it out to the entire board of the Midwestern Zoological Association. As her mouse hovered over the “Send” button, Myka had to take a moment to breathe in order to keep her hands from shaking as she clicked on it. There. It was done.

                Myka expected to lie awake all night, worrying about the Association’s verdict, but the stress of the day had taken its toll and she dropped off to sleep moments after climbing into bed. This time, thankfully, there were no dreams.

                Her anxiety returned in full force in the morning, however, rudely waking her up half an hour before her alarm went off. After spending a few minutes trying to will herself back to sleep, Myka gave up and decided to head into work early. At least there she could be productive as she worried.

                Apparently Helena had come to a similar conclusion, for her car was the only one in the parking lot when Myka arrived. She first checked the staff center, but found it still locked up tight and empty. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised. Retracing her steps, she walked them familiar paths to the aviary. The door pulled open at her first touch, and she stepped quietly inside to see Helena sitting on one of their wooden benches, head tipped to the sky and eyes drinking in the morning light as it filtered through the glass windows and the steam that shrouded the ceiling. She said nothing as Myka approached, just slid over subtly to make more room on the bench.

                They sat that way together as the room slowly brightened and dawn tiptoed into day. The Association’s board was to assemble at seven, and would hopefully reach their decision soon after, but the two of them made no move to rise as the hand’s on Myka’s watch shifted ever closer to that fateful hour. Time itself seemed to have slowed to a crawl, and the minutes dripped by with the inscrutable steadiness of snowmelt rolling down a rooftop. They barely moved, barely breathed, and the only reaction they showed to the passing of each moment was when Helena suddenly, desperately grabbed Myka’s hand as her watch beeped out that it was seven thirty.

                Myka’s heart ached for her, and she squeezed her hand fiercely in response. None of this was fair. Why should Helena lose her daughter and cross the world to make a new life, only to have it snatched from her by some senseless twist of fate? Myka had seen her healing, slowly but surely, and couldn’t imagine what it would do to her if her world was once again pulled out from under her feet. It couldn’t happen. It would break her.

                So they sat in silence for another few moments. Neither of them let go, and neither of them wanted to. The only sound were the sleepy birdcalls of sapsuckers and finches as they woke to greet the day that could very well end with the departure of their caretaker, though of course none of them could understand that.

                It was Pete who finally provided the first human noise of the morning. “Hey guys,” he said cautiously, peeking into the room and catching sight of them. “We’ve been looking for you. Artie’s expecting the news any minute now.”

                Nodding unsteadily, Helena rose to her feet. Myka stood with her, the two of them so close together that their shoulders rubbed together as they moved. She was too sick with anxiety to care what Pete would think, and Helena was clutching her had so tightly that Myka could not have let go even if she wished to.

                “C’mon. Everyone is waiting.” The three of them trailed across the zoo together, letting the feeling of the crisp autumn morning momentarily distract them from their troubles. The staff center was full of a tense silence when they arrived. Claudia, Steve, and Leena were there, and they all looked up to give Helena encouraging smiles. Claudia flashed her a thumbs-up, to which she responded with a weak wave.

                “Artie is in his office. He’s on the phone with the Zoological Association,” Leena told them softly. “They called a few minutes ago.”

Myka felt her breath hitch in her chest at the news. The waiting was somehow even harder with more of them in the room – it seemed that the length of each minute increased exponentially with each person present. None of them spoke, aside from a rather pathetic joke Pete attempted to crack. When nobody laughed, he looked around abashedly and allowed the room to lapse back into silence.

And then, there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Myka’s body stiffened as they plodded down, and she felt Helena tense up beside her. Artie kept his eyes on his feet as he descended; only looking up to catch their eyes once he had safely arrived on the ground floor. “The board has made their decision,” he announced, his expression unreadable. Myka stared at him with wide, desperate eyes, waiting for him to continue. Artie, always more fond of the dramatic than he would ever admit, took his time before doing so – but small smile he gave her before he spoke let her know the verdict before he even said a word: “She can stay.”

The room erupted in cheers as everyone surged forward to congratulate her. Pete slapped her forcefully on the back, Claudia squealed out something unintelligible, Steve shook her hand, and Leena gave her a brilliant smile. Helena looked dizzy, overwhelmed by the sudden shower of sentiment and the relief that flooded across her face as she processed Artie’s words.

Myka felt overcome as well – swept away by giddiness and pride and something more, so much more. It was this last sensation that drove her to do what she did next. Myka was not the impulsive one. She thought out each action, planned her course and calculated the results. She thought things through.

But she was tired of thinking. Tired of waiting. And when she suddenly pulled Helena even closer and brought their lips together, it felt more right than even the most meticulously strategized move ever could have.

Helena seemed to agree, as she joined in with a passion and joy that almost swept Myka off her feet – and very well might have, if Claudia, having spent the last moment in slack-jawed happiness, hadn’t chosen that moment to interrupt.

“OHMYGODYOUGUYSIKNEWITIKNEWITOHMYGOD,” she shrieked, clasping her hands together and literally jumping up and down in excitement. “I KNEW IT!”

“Woah,” Pete said, watching with eyes as round as saucers as the two of them broke apart. They were both embarrassed but flushed with excitement, and Myka felt as if she would somehow burst from the intensity of what she was feeling. “That was… Okay, wow. I’m – I’m gonna go open the gates… get the zoo ready…” He trailed off, shaking his head, and scurried from the room as fast as his feet could carry him.

Still standing at the foot of the stairs, Artie blinked at them wordlessly, his entire face a rich shade of magenta. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it once again before Leena came over to lay a hand on his arm. “Let them be for now,” she told him gently. “They’ve earned it.”

Nodding dumbly, Artie closed his mouth once more before shuffling back up the stairs to his office. Leena watched him go with a fond shake of her head.

“I thought I saw something going on there,” Steve commented, smiling at Helena and Myka as they stood together – not as close as before, but close enough. “I was wondering when you’d realize it for yourselves.”

“You _suspected_?!” Claudia rounded on him. “Stee-eeve, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You said that you already knew,” Steve reminded her playfully.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Okay, so I didn’t know in that I actually _knew_. I just thought, you know, maybe… And now maybe is a yes!” She punched a fist in the air and turned to give Steve a high five.

“You might have told us,” Helena groused. “You could have saved us a lot of trouble – and a lot of time.” She winked to show that there were no hard feelings and then turned to look at Myka. “Are you sure about this?”

And Myka, despite not being very big on PDA, and _really_ not fond of being the center of attention, felt as if she’d never been so sure of anything in her life. “I am.” And the smile Helena gave her was bright enough to drown out the sun.

Of course, their lives being the chaos that they were, it could never last. “Guys!” Pete shouted, skidding back into the room with a look of panic on his face. “You should really come see this.”

“What is it, Pete?” Myka asked, jolted from her too-brief haze of bliss. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s some guys marching out front with signs and stuff,” Pete informed her grimly, “and they do _not_ look happy.”


	12. Fallout

 If there was one good thing Myka could say about the protesters camped outside the zoo’s gates, it was that they weren’t lacking in enthusiasm.

“BAN THE ZOO!” a thickset woman bellowed, brandishing a sign emblazoned with the exact same slogan over her head. The others behind her cheered in agreement and waved their own; Myka caught sight of one that read “DON’T LET YOUR TAXES SUPPORT A DEATHTRAP” and another stamped with a disturbing cartoon sketch of a human body riddled with claw marks and liberally scribbled over with crimson.

Their loud demonstration was bad enough, but Myka couldn’t help but be even more worried that the group’s apparent ringleader was talking earnestly with Sally Stukowski as her thrice-damned cameras rolled behind her. He leaned forward in his wheelchair as he spoke, looking crisp and professional in a dark suit with his blonde hair combed over. As she watched, he turned to point emphatically at the zoo’s gates. Whatever he was telling her, it couldn’t be good.

“What do you think he’s saying?” Pete asked, echoing her thoughts.

“Exactly what she wants to hear: just how ‘dangerous’ the park is,” Myka replied, turning away in disgust. “Have you called Amanda yet?”

“Yep.” Pete flicked his cell phone out of his pocket as if to prove it. “She’s on her way.”

“Good.” Myka’s jaw clenched as the protesters began another round of chanting, shouting out something about taxpayers and public safety that didn’t quite rhyme.

“Don’t worry, Myka,” Pete assured her with confidence that she suspected he didn’t really feel. “Amanda’s dealt with this stuff before. She’ll know what to do.”

Myka nodded but said nothing, wishing for nothing more than to slam the gate in their ignorant faces. But she couldn’t – there were visitors there today, for the first time in almost a week, and they needed to let people in to show them that everything was normal, that everything was well.

The angry crowd out front did not do much to further that image, but still guests came – some turned back as soon as they caught sight of the waiting mob, and those that proceeded did so with wary glances at the demonstrators – but they trickled in all the same.

“Can they do this?” Myka burst out, agitated. “I mean, I know they’re allowed to, but… really?” She watched as a protestor thrust a handful of leaflets into the face of a young girl, who stumbled back in surprise, tripped over the curb, and scraped her knees on the pavement. Myka took a step forward, ready to rush to her aid, but the girl’s mother was already scooping her up and shouting at the man who had caused her to fall. His snide reply did nothing to pacify her, and they soon devolved into a shoving match that was threatening to turn into a large-scale brawl. The reporter shifted her attention to the roiling mob, gleefully capturing each holler and blow while her interviewee looked on coolly.

“Shit,” Pete muttered, and the two of them sprang forward to try to break up the fight. Myka headed straight for the little girl, dragging her out of harm’s way while Pete forced himself between her mother and the man that had pushed her down. “Hey guys,” he said in a low, careful voice. “Take it easy.” Stukowski was buzzing about nearby, eager to catch some footage of a zookeeper instigating more violence (or at least getting the snot beaten out of him), but Pete was too smart to get himself into such a situation. Laying a placating hand on the protester’s shoulder, he used the other to steer the outraged woman toward her daughter. Giving the man a haughty glare, she snatched up her child’s hand and stalked back to their car.

As the protesters picked up their signs and the rest of the rattled-looking guests shuffled into the zoo, Pete returned to her side. “That was close,” he told her darkly. “Too close.” She nodded, biting her lip and watching as Sally Stukowski resumed her interview with the blonde man in the wheelchair. “I guess we should just be glad Helena wasn’t here,” Pete added with a sigh. “I mean, she would have ripped that guy a new one.”

“What?” Myka’s gaze snapped back to him. “What do you mean?”

Pete gave her a cautious half-shrug, wary of the intensity with which she stared at him. “Not to hate on your new girlfriend, Mykes, but she’s always acted really weird around kids. You know, the first week she was here, I caught her _screaming_ at this guy who’d yelled at his daughter for dropping her ice cream cone. I think she would’ve punched him if I hadn’t come over to talk her down.”

“Oh,” Myka sighed. “Yeah. I guess she can be a little… protective.”

Pete nodded, but, perhaps sensing her sadness as she thought of the daughter Helena had lost, didn’t push the issue.

When Amanda arrived, she was faced with the task of informing a blustering Artie that, unfortunately, the protest was completely legal and there was nothing they could do about it. Every hand was needed to keep the zoo running smoothly during its first day back in operation, but they somehow managed to switch around a few shifts in order to have somebody watching the gate all day. They couldn’t afford to have the demonstrators start another fight or give Stukowski anything to put on her show. Everyone agreed that Leena and Steve were the most levelheaded of the group (and therefore the least likely to react to the jeers of the protesters), so they were to take turns on guard duty with occasional backup from Pete.

Myka felt almost bad for Leena as the other woman accepted her assignment, nodding grimly. Leena was the kind of person to whom violence was a foreign idea, almost as distant from her mind as intentional cruelty and using toxic pesticides. She hated sending her to face the hostile crowd alone, but they had no choice.

Myka was so busy that she scarcely had time to worry, however. She spent the entire day scrambling around the zoo as she helped Dr. Calder perform a routine checkup on their orangutans; gave some fresh hay to Florence and the rest of the elephants; dodged questions about “the polar bear incident” from prying guests; and retrieved a pacifier someone’s toddler had tossed into the meerkat enclosure. She’d almost been able to forget about everything by the time five o’clock rolled around – and with it, the zoo’s closing. Despite the fact that she was refilling Rheticus’ water on the opposite end of the park, she could hear the shouting of the protestors swell to meet the day’s crowd as they exited. Pressing her eyes closed, she suppressed a sigh, scooped up her watering can, and turned to go. As she locked the door behind her, she heard the sound of footsteps and craned her neck around to see Helena bustling up the path.

“Thank goodness I caught you,” she said breathlessly, hovering a short distance away. “I was just wondering… that is, I was thinking… we should talk.” Helena flashed a charmingly awkward smile while Myka blinked at her in surprise.

“Um, sure,” she told her, rather taken aback. “I need to head to the staff center to pick up my stuff from my locker. Want to walk with me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Helena said grandly, and Myka couldn’t help but laugh. It eased some of the tension she felt – Myka wasn’t the kind to recklessly jump into anything, particularly relationships, but somehow she had done something of the sort that morning. She wasn’t used to dealing with the fallout of rash decisions because she never made rash decisions in the first place. Now, she simply had to grit her teeth and see how everyone less careful than she was dealt with their lives.

“I just wanted to tell you,” Helena began, actually sounding a trifle nervous, “that I didn’t mean to behave in such an, ah, indecorous manner earlier today.”

_Indecorous?_ “Helena,” Myka asked her slowly, “are you talking about the kiss?”

Helena looked at her somewhat incredulously. “Yes, my dear Myka. I was, in fact, referencing ‘the kiss.’”

“Helena, you didn’t even… I mean, I was the one that started it.” Myka could feel herself blushing slightly, but she pressed on. “I’m the one that sprang that on you. I should be the one saying sorry. I would have been, but I thought that you, you know…”

“Oh! Yes, I did!” Helena said hastily. And she looked so comically worried that she had somehow offended her that Myka had to smile at her. Somewhat reassured, Helena continued in a more gentle tone, “It was wonderful, Myka. It really was. I just want to make certain that you’re sure about this.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Myka asked, genuinely perplexed. _“Are you sure about this?”_ Helena had asked her, and Myka had assured her that she was. Was Helena herself the one now having doubts?

Helena took her time before replying, gazing about at the empty park, the animals settling in for the night – anywhere but at Myka. “Because,” she said at last, “I’m not sure I can be what you need.”

“Helena…”

“I lost my daughter less than a year ago, Myka. My head, it’s still in such a strange place. I pushed everyone away for months before I arrived here, and I didn’t come in search of, of romance. I came here to surround myself with strangers and shut myself away.” She at last shifted her eyes to Myka, and the look on her face was one of anguish. “But everyone was so friendly that I just couldn’t bear to be so horrible to them – especially you, Myka. And, and I want this. I want this more than I’ve wanted anything in a long, long time, but I don’t want to bring you into something you’ll regret.” By the time she had finished, her breathing was heavy and she looked close to tears. She’d stopped in the middle of the path while she’d been talking, her hand clenched around Myka’s arm, because she always seemed to be touching Myka (little touches, little taps, and people touching her drove Myka crazy but not with Helena, never with her, and she could never understand why until she realized how much she wanted Helena to be touching her all the time).  Her face was turned toward Myka’s, eyes pleading – but for what, she herself didn’t seem to know.

“Helena,” Myka said, ever so softly. “You need to stop. You are not _inflicting_ yourself on me. I’m happy to be with you. I started this. And you –” she brought her hand up to Helena’s face and lightly brushed away the first of her tears with the pad of her thumb “- are not something I could ever regret.”

And, ever so softly, she pulled the other woman into an embrace. It didn’t have the passion and delirium of their kiss, but it had a deeper feeling of compassion and hope and something a little like love.


	13. Shine

The protestors returned in force the next day and the day after that. “They’ll stop coming eventually,” Amanda assured them, though she sounded less than hopeful as she surveyed the shouting group at the gates. “They’ll get bored – and cold, with this weather – and stomping around outside all day while yelling yourself hoarse isn’t exactly a whole lot of fun. Don’t worry.”

She was right, in the end. By the time the zoo had been opened for four days, the crowd in the front had thinned to less than half its original size. Leena, whose tranquility had descended into more of an exhausted stupor after hours of weathering the protestors’ taunts, was finally beginning to perk up a little. Steve had also become grumpy after guard duty, but he too had improved – though Myka privately believed that Liam’s official reinstatement as a security guard had more to do with that then the dwindling number of demonstrators. She’d always suspected that they were close, and the fact that they came to the zoo in the same car on Liam’s second day back just seemed to confirm what she had guessed.

She and Helena hadn’t yet gotten to that point – they were taking things slow, but for a good reason. It wouldn’t do Helena any good to rush things, and besides, they had time. Thankfully, it seemed that she wasn’t going anywhere.

With that in mind, it was in neither of their interests to go _too_ slowly. That morning, Helena had accosted her at the staff room to inform her that she just happened to have reservations for two at a lovely little Italian restaurant downtown. Dropping her a wink, she’d stage whispered, “Meet me in the lot at seven?” to which Myka could only nod happily.

_A date._ The last time Myka had been on one of those was two years earlier, when she and Sam had gone to listen to a concert in the park. She smiled at the bittersweet memory. (Sam had broken up with her less than a month later over a bottle of rich red wine and an argument over her tendency to push people away. She still talked with him over the phone sometimes – he was working at the Denver zoo and seemed to be quite happily in love with his new wife.)

She spent the day at work with a sort of giddy golden buzz in her brain, far different from the dread that had weighed her a few days previously when the protestors had first arrived. When she glimpsed Helena on the paths around the zoo, the smiles they exchanged were those of excitable schoolgirls with a secret, averting their eyes and almost giggling. (And since when did Myka even come close to _giggling_?)

And then, very close to literally, it all went up in flames.

When six o’clock rolled around – only an hour left, she thought to herself gleefully – Myka found herself daydreaming about Bellini’s creamy _Gamberi Manicotti_ as she mucked out the giraffe pen. She hadn’t eaten out at a restaurant for ages, usually dozing off on the couch with a bowl of soup moments after arriving at home. Zookeeping was the kind of job that that left little energy or money left over at the end of the day for such excursions, but the excitement that pulsed through her body at every time she thought of glancing across to see Helena’s face bathed in candlelight and wrapping her hand around hers under the table assured her that she wouldn’t likely drift off during the meal (or any activities thereafter).

                Winter was coming on fast, as the slight nip in the air and the quickly-darkening skies could attest, and the stars had begun sweep across the heavens by the time she finished. Giving William a light wave as she stepped from the enclosure, she took in a deep breath of cool night air, taking in the October crispness and earthy smell of leaves –

                And she began to cough, because there was also something in the air that stung her eyes and scraped her throat, something drifting over from Leena’s gardens. With a cry of alarm muffled by another hacking fit, she ran toward the blaze she saw blossoming over the bushes.

                                Leena’s carefully-clipped hedges, trimmed to look like lions and bison and even a delicate little hummingbird (made as a surprise for Helena, who had beamed so brightly when it had been unveiled) were engulfed in flames, their leaves and spindly branches crumbling to ash before her eyes. The vegetable patch had been trampled, the carrots uprooted and tomatoes squashed into the dirt. Even the thorny tangle of raspberry bushes had been torn to pieces and scattered across the kicked-up soil.

                “Holy shit,” she whispered, stopping just short of the garden to stare at the carnage. “Oh my god.”

                “Myka!” she heard a familiar voice cry. Peering through the smoke, she caught sight of a ripple of dark hair and a pair of wide eyes that gleamed with reddish light from the fire. “Myka, get away from there!” Helena called.

                “Helena!” Myka dashed around the garden and over to her, clutching desperately at her arm. “Are you okay? What happened?”

                “I haven’t the faintest idea. I got here a few moments ago and it was like this.” She stared apprehensively into the depths of the fire. It had spread to the bamboo stalks, causing them to erupt into fizzing columns of flame.

                “Do you have your cell phone? We need to call-”

                “I already have,” Helena affirmed. “The fire department is on its way.”

                “Thank God,” Myka breathed. Taking Helena’s arm, she steered them further away from the cloud of smoke that choked the air. “We should do something - try to put it out.”

                The staff center was on the other side of the park, but one of the zoo’s restrooms was nearby. They found some buckets in a storage closet, filled them up in the sink, and ran back to throw the water into the flames. It was slow going, and Myka would have found it tedious if not for the adrenaline that pumped through her anew every time she felt sparks from the fire sting her wrists.

By the time the first group of firefighters had maneuvered their truck into the zoo proper and hooked up the hose to a fire hydrant, the two of them had barely made a dent in the inferno. Exhaustedly, they stepped aside to let the professionals do their job. Myka found herself staring dazedly at the chaos around her - firefighters rushing about, flames crouching low over the scorched earth, water surging from the hose, ash and burning bits of plant being blasted across the garden and hastily stamped out by heavy boots.

And then, what seemed quite suddenly, it was over. The firefighters were backing off, the flames were dead. The only trace left was the lingering sickly scent of burnt chlorophyll. The fire chief approached to ask them to sign a few papers, and Myka realized with a jolt that they hadn’t even called Artie. She felt bad sending Helena off to do so (Artie wasn’t likely to receive the news very well, and he had a remarkable skill for shouting so fiercely over the phone that you could almost feel his spit land on you from miles away), but she had been an employee of Bristol Park far longer and had more authority to sign off on the chief’s statement.

She stood by silently as she did so, pulling off his helmet to wipe off his brow. “Do you know what did it?” she asked him as she balanced his clipboard on her hip and scrawled her name. “I mean, can you tell?”

The bearded man nodded heavily, grimacing in a way that immediately let Myka know she wouldn’t like his answer. “There’s no way to tell exactly where the point of ignition was.” He had a rolling sort of accent and spoke far more precisely than she would have expected from such a hulking man. “There doesn’t seem to be any natural way the fire could have started, and the rate at which it spread indicates that there was an accelerant involved.”

“Wait. You’re saying…”

“It appears that there’s an arsonist with a grudge against your zoo.”

“Oh my god,” Myka groaned, tipping back her head and squeezing her eyes shut. “That means we need to get the police too, right?” He nodded in affirmation, but Myka was already fishing her phone from her pocket. “Before I call them,” she asked suddenly, finger hovering over the buttons, “can I ask how long you think this will take?”

The fire chief chuckled heartily. “Dealing with the aftermath of a fire is not a simple process,” he told her. “I’m sorry, but you will most likely have a long night ahead of you.”

Giving him a resigned half-smile, she pressed to dial. Apparently the plans she and Helena had made had gone up in smoke with Leena’s beloved garden.

When he at last arrived at the scene of the crime, Artie came with a bang. He shouted at both Myka and Helena, somehow simultaneously praising them for their quick thinking and blaming them for the mess in the first place. Helena looked bothered (Myka was certain that her weariness was the only reason she wasn’t screaming back at him), but Myka herself didn’t mind. It was Artie’s way to yell and grumble, and she knew that he was just upset and a little scared. So she let him vent, putting her hand on Helena’s and squeezing to let her know that he didn’t mean it.

When Leena first laid eyes on the ruin of her garden, it was with a whimper.

She didn’t cry, as far as Myka could tell. She just stared around at the devastation with wide, empty eyes and made a single quiet sound deep in her throat. For the first time that night, Myka felt her shock and dull sense of disbelief crack away to reveal true fury underneath. Who could do such a thing to sweet, gentle Leena, who cared so deeply for these plants, whose glowing smile was the only sun they needed to grow?

In that moment, with a forceful clarity, she knew that she would do whatever it took to save what was left of their zoo. For Leena, who was looking into the ashes of her greatest joy; for Artie, for whom the zoo was both a home and a life to live; for Claudia, a quirky perpetual outsider who had only found her place once she’d joined their crew; for Pete, who had dropped out of school and drank away the world until the zoo had given him enough purpose to get him back on his feet; and for Helena, who had nuzzled her head onto Myka’s shoulder and was rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back. Helena, who had lost a daughter and her friends and had crossed the world for a chance at a new start.

Somehow, she would find a way to do it for them.

The fire chief was right about how long the process of reporting an act of arson would take. She and Helena had to give their accounts of what they had seen multiple times, and by the end of it Myka found her throat parched by smoke and endlessly repeating her account. At last, after verifying their statements one last time, Artie gave them permission to leave. (He warned them to expect more paperwork in the morning, but at that point they were too tired to care.)

With a final look at the charred pit before them, more closely resembling a crater than any sort of garden, the two of them set off together. Helena gave Leena a bracing pat on the shoulder as they passed, and Myka impulsively reached out to pull her into a tight embrace. She wasn’t much of a hugger usually, but the gratitude in Leena’s eyes as she pulled away let her know she had made the right choice.

She and Helena walked to their cars in a silence that she broke very carefully as they reached the front gate.

“I’m sorry.” Helena gave her a strange look, and she elaborated: “About this whole mess. You didn’t come here to deal with that.”

“Myka,” Helena said seriously, halting on the path to look at her. “I don’t mind. I haven’t felt so… attached to something in ages.” She grinned weakly. “I suppose that you don’t always realize how much something means to you until it’s at risk of being taken away.” (She left the “or you’ve already lost it” out, but Myka heard it there anyway and laid a soft hand on her shoulder.)

“You know,” she said somewhat awkwardly, “if Pete was here, he’d start singing that song. ‘Don’t it always seem to go…’” Helena blinked incredulously at Myka’s attempt to sing, and Myka stopped abruptly to glare at her. They froze that way for a moment, faces blank with disbelief and screwed up with mock fury. And then they were laughing, the kind of laughing that tugs and twangs the muscles in your stomach but you just can’t stop because it feels so good everywhere else. When at last they subsided, blinking away moisture from their eyes, Myka felt her exhaustion drop away like a discarded cloak.

“Come on,” she told Helena, grabbing her hand. “We missed our reservations because of that fire, but I’m not letting it ruin our entire night.” Grinning, Helena allowed herself to be led away.

And so they found themselves wandering down Main Street at ten o’clock at night, eating ice creams from the only shop that they’d miraculously found to still be open. The air was warmer than usual for October, so perhaps they didn’t need to press quite so close as they walked, but there was nobody on the empty streets to notice. The sky was a darkest blue above them, the stars so clear they looked like they belonged in some photoshopped postcard rather than the actual sky.

Helena had a dash of soot on her cheek and a singed leaf in her hair, which had lost its usual sleek seamlessness and become a bit tangled and frazzled. She smelled of smoke instead of spice, and Myka marveled at how she could be such a mess, so imperfect, and yet such a wonder. When they kissed goodbye, she tasted of mint chocolate chip.

 Myka smiled against her lips and felt the stars shine beneath her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Apparitionism for helping me out with firefighting information. She is really lovely and has an absolutely wonderful AU about firefighter Bering and Wells that you should DEFINITELY check out if you haven't already. (I mean, 90% of you have probably already read it, but if you haven't, DO.)


	14. Measuring

The first step in rescuing the zoo had to be recruiting a patron. In the chaos of the fire and the protest and the cancelled plans for the aviary, there hadn’t been much time to prepare for Kosan’s visit. The zoo was open every day, but closed early on Sundays, so his visit had been arranged for midafternoon the second Sunday of the month. The protesters that remained would hopefully have dispersed by then, and it would still be bright long enough for him to have enough time to get a full glimpse into what the zoo was like.

Frost was beginning to turn the browning grass to a frozen carpet that crunched underfoot, and early mornings at the zoo were becoming unbearably cold. Myka felt winter prowling closer like some great frigid beast, bulky and unavoidable and ready to sink its claws into them all. (That made her think of Donner, of white fur tinged with red, and she pushed the thought vehemently from her mind.) Winter was always the hardest season for the zoo, and this one didn’t promise to be a particularly lenient one. They would just have to do what they always did: bundle up, hunker down, and try to weather the storm.

The Sunday of his visit dawned cold and uncompromising, and Myka found herself shivering as she ground up fish for the penguins in the staff center’s basement. At least the cold made her nose run, which kept the heavy reek of seafood out of her nostrils. She tried to comfort herself with such flimsy optimism as she worked, but inside she could feel her heart beating the slow stunted thump that comes from a chest soaked with dread.

The day passed too quickly, and soon enough four o’clock had brought Kosan to their doorstep. They all waited out front to greet him, an oddly nervous welcoming party. Myka and Artie both began to talk at once and then shot each other irritated glares, looking faintly embarrassed. Amanda stepped forward to save them, smiling calmly and inclining her head in greeting.

“Welcome to the zoo, Mr. Kosan. Let me introduce everyone.” She pointed out each of them one by one, and everyone nodded politely. The smile Claudia gave him was so anxious that it was more of a teeth-baring grimace, and Myka wanted dearly to pinch her and tell her to take a breath, for god’s sake. But Mr. Kosan held out his hand to shake hers first, and the smile he gave her in return was so gentle that the girl relaxed slightly at the sight of it.

“I know this zoo well,” he told them, looking around fondly. “It was my favorite place to visit as a young boy.”

Claudia shot Steve a gleeful look and gave him a subtle fist bump. _Score_ , she mouthed to Myka, who ducked her head to keep from smiling. So far, so good - as far as she could tell.

With a forcedly cheerful veneer covering his apprehension, Artie lead Mr. Kosan - or Adwin, as he’d insisted they call him - on an extensive tour of the grounds. Steve left to tend to talk to Dr. Calder about adjusting Eleanor’s diet (she hadn’t been eating well after her mate’s death), while Pete begged off on the basis of having to check on Ina, the pudú doe they suspected was pregnant. The rest of the crew trailed after their guest, occasionally jumping in to help Artie give the tour but mostly just watching anxiously.

Adwin was, thankfully, a willing participant. He commented on nearly every exhibit with a “how fascinating!” or some comment on his childhood impression of the animals. “I was quite frightened of the tigers,” he remarked, gazing with genuine awe at Raghu as he strolled across his exhibit with casual grace. “I never truly believed that a simple pane of glass could keep such a magnificent creature inside if he didn’t want it to.”

Artie gave an awkward guffaw, sliding a slightly panicked look over at Myka. “Well, I don’t think that would ever happen.”

“Of course not,” Kosan returned smoothly. “I am no longer a child, Mr. Nielsen - my confidence in the strength of glass has grown considerably over the years.” As if to prove his point, he gave the barrier a light pat and smiled.

He was, Myka reflected, quite charismatic. His every gesture and smile was calculated, his every word planned to make him seem likable and trustworthy. It worked on her, she had to admit - after half an hour in his company, she found herself far more relaxed than she had been when Kosan had first arrived.

His charm went to work on every one of them, and soon the entire group found themselves at ease in his company. His visit became more of a pleasant stroll than a nerve-racking necessity, and she found herself actually feeling hopeful as their footsteps and conversations grew gradually more loose and meandering. It felt natural, as they walked along, to slip her hand into Helena’s, and they tangled their fingers together idly as they listened to Adwin and Artie discussing traffic in the city.

                “When I’m elected,” she overheard Adwin saying, “I will hire some officers to help ease congestion in that district.”

                For the first time since meeting him, Myka felt an unpleasant sensation crawl into her stomach at his words. She’d let herself forget, at least a little bit, that he was a _politician_. With his affable nature and keen liking for the zoo, he came off more like a particularly enthusiastic guest than a man with an agenda. As much as he seemed to be enjoying himself, it was important to keep in mind that, to him, they were a means to an end. They should think of him as a partner rather than a friend; as Kosan rather than Adwin.

                From the measuring look that Helena was giving her, it seemed that she had come to the same conclusion. They spent the final leg of his tour in speculative silence, carefully listening to everything he said to the rest of the group as they tried to figure out just what kind of a man he was.

                When they passed the crater of ruin that had once been Leena’s garden, he took a moment to survey the damage with an expression of great sorrow on his face. He had, he informed them, heard about the incident on the news and was deeply saddened by what he described as “a callous act of vandalism.” As he spoke, Leena’s smile tightened into a sharp line of anger - clearly, she believed what had happened to be closer to murder than vandalism.

Sensing that they would have an actual homicide on their hands if Kosan was allowed to pontificate further over the fate of Leena’s plants, Myka tactfully suggested that they draw the tour to a close. “As much fun as this has been,” she told Kosan cheerfully, giving their gardener a warning look, “I think we’d all love to get home out of this cold.” Kosan agreed with a chuckle that had an edge of relief to it - he too had apparently grown cold, or perhaps Myka hadn’t been the only one to notice the dangerous gleam in Leena’s eyes.

As they set off for the front gate to bid him farewell, Kosan now chatting about plans for a community performance night at the civic center to a starry-eyed Claudia, Myka had to admit that the visit had gone better than she hoped. Despite her suspicion of the man’s true intentions, Kosan hadn’t shown any reservations about supporting the zoo and seemed willing to make them a part of his campaign. Even if he only did so to go against Celcus’ wishes, it would be enough.

“Thank you for giving me such a wonderful tour,” Kosan told them as they walked. “If that’s alright with you, I think I will have my aide call you later to discuss certain… details.” Helena turned to Myka, eyes alight, while Claudia looked as if she was trying to keep from whooping aloud.

“Of course. Yes. Thank you,” Artie said, an excited grin turning up the corners of his frazzled mustache. Noting their reactions, a pleased, slightly smug smile spread across Kosan’s face.

Only to drip away like melting wax as he caught sight of what awaited them out front.

The crowd of protesters, which certainly hadn’t been there when Kosan had arrived, was now assembled in full force outside of the zoo. The pack was actually larger than it had been in days, and standing triumphantly at their forefront was Sally Stukowski and her camera crew.

Beside her, Helena bit out a curse and moved to shepherd Kosan away from the mob, but they had already caught sight of him.

“Mr. Kosan!” Stukowski shrieked, pushing her microphone through the bars of the gate a waggling it about. “What are you doing here? Does your presence at the zoo indicate that-”

“That’s enough,” Kosan said sharply. “This is none of your business. Turn those things off.”

“Are you planning to support the zoo in your upcoming election?” Stukowski demanded, undeterred. “Are you aware of the public’s strong sentiment against the zoo in the wake of recent incidents?”

Kosan turned furiously away from the cameras and made as if to move away, but Myka jumped desperately in front of him. “Mr. Kosan… Adwin, please. Can’t you just tell them? I mean, if you’re going to help us, couldn’t you…?”

Kosan looked down at her as if she were some sort of imbecile child. “Now is not the time.” Brushing her away, he strode over to Artie, grabbed his arm, and leaned over to speak in his ear. “Thank you for the tour. I will speak with you soon.” Leaving a speechless Artie behind, he spun around to make his exit.

He seemed perfectly calm as he walked through the surging mob at the gates. He nodded politely as he passed, a tight smile on his face that almost hid the frustration in his gaze. He didn’t look back once, and soon he was swallowed up by the crowd and the falling twilight.

The rest of the zoo crew looked on in silence, dismayed by how quickly everything had gone so wrong. “Come on,” Leena said after a moment, laying a gentle hand on Artie’s shoulder. His face had drooped into an expression closely resembling a sad puppy, his gruff exterior fallen away for a moment in the face of his newly-dashed hopes.

Helena let out a murmur of agreement, and they all wheeled slowly about to troop back to the staff center. Myka made brief calls to Steve and Pete on her pocket radio as they walked, leaving two clipped messages instructing them to reconvene in the staff room. Myka didn’t think that the news of Kosan’s disastrous departure (and what it entailed for the zoo) was the kind that should be broken over a walkie-talkie.

Steve had been working nearby and was waiting in the staff center for them. His excited “How’d it go?” died on his lips the moment he caught sight of the expression on their faces and the sag in their shoulders. Wordlessly, he opened his arms and bundled Claudia into them. She clung to him, burying her head into his shoulder and, quite unexpectedly, began to cry.

Pete chose that moment to enter, his hopeful look fading to one of confused dismay as he caught sight of the crying young woman. Myka felt the same way. Claudia wasn’t the kind of person who cried very often - she was a lightning strike, something sharp and fierce and bright. Her tears extinguished her, and it always hurt Myka to see the spark in her dim down to despair. If Steve hadn’t been her closest friend, she knew that she would have stepped up to embrace her in an instant (her usual boundaries be damned).

“What happened?” Pete asked weakly, running a hand through his hair.

“Those dreadful protesters came back,” Helena told him grimly. “And they brought their friend the newswoman along with them.”

Pete swore once, low and harsh, looking as if he’d like nothing better than to slam his fist into the wall. Instead, he let out a tense sigh and jerked his head in Claudia’s direction. “Is Claude okay?”

A few yards away, Claudia’s head jerked up and swiveled to glare at him. “No, Pete,” she snapped. “‘Claude’ is _not_ okay.” He backed up slightly hands raised in an appeasing gesture, but she wasn’t through. Forcibly shoving Steve away, she advanced on him with burning eyes. “Those guys out there - they were so angry, but so _stupid_. I mean, they don’t know anything about this place. They’re just ignorant idiots, running around shouting about stuff they don’t understand.”

“Claudia-” Pete tried again, but her voice only rose and swept him away.

“We aren’t a ‘safety hazard.’ This isn’t a bad zoo. We all work hard and, and we care about this place and all of our animals.” The cresting wave of her anger broke, crashing down to leave her empty and forlorn. “We’re a good zoo, guys. Aren’t we?”

Sensing that the danger had passed, Steve once again approached her to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I think,” he told her gently, “that we’re good people. We’ve treated this place as well as we can.” She gave a tight nod and began to scrub away at her tears with her sleeve, faintly ashamed of her outburst.

“Claudia’s right,” Myka said after a long silence, voice heavy. “I know that we’re scared about what’s going to happen, but this is a wonderful place. Working here… it’s changed my life. And I think that this zoo is something worth fighting for.”

“Hear, hear,” Helena chimed in, smiling wryly, and Myka felt a sudden surge of affection for the woman break through the shell of tension that had encased her since Kosan had left. She smiled at her, the big kind that makes your eyes sparkle and your teeth come out and can make anyone beautiful. Helena grinned back.

“You said it, Mykes.” Pete slapped her on the back, and she turned to give him her customary slug on the arm. “We’ve gotta get our heads in the game.”

“Oh my God, Pete,” Claudia groaned, her voice only a little muffled from crying. “If you start singing High School Musical songs on me, I will personally end your life.”

There was a tense staredown for a moment - then, looking Claudia very deliberately in the eye, Pete started to hum _We’re All in this Together_.

With that, the morose atmosphere in the room evaporated. Claudia launched herself at him with a playful shriek of rage, and Pete laughed as he batted away her frenzied blows. The rest of them looked on, smiling fondly. They would, Myka decided, be all right. Somehow, they’d work things out.

The sudden trill of the telephone jolted them out of the moment. Every eye in the room narrowed in on the phone as it rang once, then twice, but nobody could quite muster the courage to answer it. Finally, before it sounded for the fourth and final time, Claudia took a deep breath and reached for the receiver. “Hello?” Her eyes widened as she listened to the voice on the other end.

“Who is it?” Pete hissed.

She tipped the mouthpiece away from her to mouth _Kosan’s secretary_ , and Pete clapped a hand over his mouth in a gesture of shock so exaggerated it would have been funny if the circumstances were any less grim. The group of them watched intently as Claudia continued the conversation, her brows furrowing as she absentmindedly twisted the cord around her finger. “Yes, this is - yes. Oh.” With a grimace, she tensed her shoulders to brace herself for the words to come. “So, what did he decide?”

For a few impossible moments, it felt as if the entire universe was holding its breath. Myka found that she was biting her lip so hard that it actually kind of hurt, but felt too wound up to release it. Across the room, Artie was leaning so far forward in his chair that he looked precariously close to toppling to the ground.

And then Claudia let out a whoop so unexpected that Artie _did_ tumble to the floor in surprise. “He did?! He did! Ohmygodwowthanks!” She practically threw the phone back into its cradle, beaming as wide and bright as a wedge of the sun. “ _He said yes!_ ”

Her last statement was quite unnecessary - they had all begun to celebrate as soon as the first exclamation had left her lips. Pete seized her and dragged her into a goofy-footed dance, Steve laughing in approval. The less rambunctious of them had sagged into identical puddles of relief. Artie flashed her a weak smile from across the room as he picked himself up, and Myka returned it gleefully.

At that moment, she didn’t care one bit about Kosan’s motives or agenda. As she glanced around at the laughing, smiling, dancing group around her, Myka couldn’t help but feel simply happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to pop in to say that it means a lot to me that you guys are reading this. Constructive criticism and comments of any kind are always welcome - I'm new at this and want to see how you guys feel about it.


	15. Ceasefire

“Pete! Pete, can you come over here?” The ladder beneath her began to wobble dangerously, and Myka let out another desperate cry. “PETE!”  
“Woah there! I’ve gotcha,” he called, dashing over to plant both hands on its rickety legs. The crisis averted, he peered up at her worriedly. “You okay, Mykes?”  
“I’m fine,” she sighed, slumping against the wall slightly in relief. “I just ran out of tape, and I can’t get this poster to stick. She motioned to the blue sign stamped with a picture of a distinguished-looking figure and the words “Build a better city with Kosan,” which was currently dangling lopsidedly from the wall with a single strand of duct tape.   
“Hold on a sec, I’ll get you some.” He started to step away, but the ladder began to teeter the moment he wasn’t there to steady it.  
“Pete!” He jumped back to hold it down again.  
“Sorry, sorry!” She gave him a withering glare. “Maybe,” he said sheepishly, “I should let you get down first.”  
Resisting the urge to smack him as she descended, Myka clambered back to solid ground. “Why,” she asked in exasperation, “did I ever agree to this?”  
She wasn’t entirely sure what she had expected Kosan’s official support would entail, but Myka definitely did not imagine that the process would turn out to be as elaborate as it was.   
First came the press release, which Kosan had arranged to be held inside the zoo itself. He’d also informed them that he’d need a representative from the zoo to stand next to him as he gave his speech, and Artie was happy to comply. In fact, he’d seemed almost excited to be on television, if a bit camera-shy.  
That was why they’d been confused when his grouchy, balding aide showed up to help them prepare and started coaching Helena on where to stand and what to do during the interview. “I’m sorry,” she told him, pulling away from him as he made to drag her over to the podium, “but I think you’re looking for Artie.”  
“No, no,” the man said impatiently. “It doesn’t matter which one of you I take - you’re all wearing the uniform. Besides, you’ll look better for the cameras.”  
“I beg your pardon?”   
Perhaps he had never seen the way alley cats tensed before they threw themselves at each other in a squalling, clawing tangle, or maybe he just didn’t notice how Helena’s spine had stiffened in the same way. In any case, the man continued, heedless of the danger in the set of her shoulders. “Nothing makes a guy look more confident that a pretty woman standing beside him, nodding along to everything he says. So come on, we need you over here.”  
Myka knew that if Helena opened her mouth, all hell would break loose - but luckily Amanda was nearby, and she stepped in smoothly before Helena could get a single word out. “I’ll take it from here, Charlie. Go see if there’s anything Mr. Kosan needs.” Grumbling a bit, the aide wandered off to do as she said.  
“How dare he,” Helena fumed, looking as if she‘d like nothing better than to chase after him and bury him within their pile of elephant compost. “That disgusting, filthy little man can take his cameras and stuff them up -”  
“Helena, calm down,” Amanda pleaded. “I know Charlie acts like we’re still living in the sixties, but he didn’t mean anything by it. He’s just trying to help.”  
“Help?” Helena muttered to herself, her glare burning a hole in the back of Charlie’s head. Amanda gave her a soothing pat and began to steer her away. And, though she looked as if she’d still dearly love to suffocate him in animal feces, Helena reluctantly let it go.  
The press release had gone on as planned, with Artie standing beside Kosan as he pledged to defend the zoo. She had seen Stukowski among the crowd, holding aloft her microphone as if it were a torch, but the woman disappeared into the throng before Myka could decide if it was worth it to slam her into the wall and tell her to get out.  
After that had come the official introductions to his campaign crew. Amanda, his chief advisor, they were of course already familiar with. Charlie earned a narrow-eyed look of recognition from Helena, though the rest of his team seemed perfectly nice and was received cordially. As she looked around at the bunch of them, Myka realized, somewhat wistfully, how earnest some of them seemed. So many of them believed that they were making a difference, were making the world a better place. That certainty had faded from her with age, she reflected as they left the headquarters - but she knew she would feel it again each time she saw the gratitude in the eyes of an animal that she cared for.   
She’d thought that would be the end of their political involvement, but it was only the beginning. When he had asked them to hang a few posters around their own homes, they couldn’t very well say no (even if Artie did feel that it was in poor taste). So, with permission from her rather indifferent landlord, Myka and Pete were plastering its scuffed-up brick walls with countless posters of Kosan’s stern visage. Privately, Myka had to admit that it really wasn’t much of an improvement.  
“Good thing I didn’t let you fall,” Pete joked as he returned with the tape and held down the ladder for her. “I think H.G. would have killed me.”  
Myka only smiled.   
That night, as she sat on the couch with her head pillowed on Helena’s shoulder, Helena commented on the new decorations outside. Myka laughed and told her to forget about them. “We hear enough about the campaign and politics during the day. Can’t tonight just be…”  
“For us?” Helena finished for her, the usual playful glimmer in her eye softened to something else, something other, something Myka hadn’t seen there before. “Of course, Myka.”  
Myka Bering had wanted many things in her life. She had wanted to please her father, wanted to fix her family, wanted to get good grades and have a future and get a job and save the zoo. But never, in all her years of being and wanting, had she ever needed anything as much as she needed that sparkle in Helena’s gaze.  
It was a ridiculous desire, an intangible shining something that she couldn’t ever touch, but she wished she could cup her hands and hold it there, glowing between her fingers like fireflies caught on a sticky summer’s night. Instead, she leaned over and kissed Helena right at the curve of her jawline, right below her ear, and felt her shiver beneath her lips.  
They drove to the zoo together the next morning, crammed into Helena’s funny little car as they navigated the morning traffic. Myka felt loose, almost floaty, as if the air in her lungs had been replaced with helium over the night as she lay curled into Helena’s side. She hummed along to the cheesy pop song on the radio, bobbing her head a little to the beat, and Helena glanced over at her with a look of overwhelming fondness. The sparkle was there, but now it was in Myka too.   
She wondered, as she walked into the zoo, if they could see her glowing.  
The animals were always a bit more responsive to Pete and Steve - they had that special knack for understanding them as who they were, while Myka tended to be more focused on the “what.” Not that she didn’t love them, of course. She was just better with patterns and definitions of behavior that could be observed over time or verified in textbooks, and she knew that you needed both “who” and “what” to ultimately find “why.”   
But today, even the animals that were usually distant even with the boys couldn’t help but pick up on the pure euphoria she was radiating. They were perkier, more excitable all day, and she couldn’t help but beam at every one of them as she fed, watered, and cared for them. Filing down the elephants’ toenails in the evening, her excitement had condensed into a tight little coal of contentment that lay warm in her chest. Florence, stately and serene, reached down with her trunk to gently rub her shoulder, and Myka felt as if the joy would just break her in two.  
It was as if somebody had thrown up a flag and called a ceasefire, giving them a brief reprieve from the battery of tragedy and frustrations that they had so recently experienced. One day of peace. One day of bliss. If that was all they could offer, Myka would take it.  
She knew, as she chased Helena around her kitchen with kisses, that it would have to come to an end. The fight for the zoo wasn’t over, not by a long shot, but she tried to distance herself from the thought as she bustled about putting together dinner. He progress was hindered by Helena distracting her in ways that were very hard to ignore, but Myka couldn’t bring herself to mind.  
Sometimes, distractions were exactly what was needed.  
When Helena spent the night, which was becoming more and more frequent, they often found themselves talking until dawn pinkened the sky and they collapsed in an exhausted tangle in bed - or the couch, if they nodded off mid-conversation. Sometimes they talked of the zoo, but most of the time they spoke of what their lives had been before. (They both thought about what they might like their lives to be after, if such a time would ever exist, but neither was brave enough to voice such thoughts aloud. Not yet, at least.)  
And so Myka learned about life at the Chester zoo, that Helena had never tried a Twizzler before she came, and how living life without a bossy twin brother was definitely something she should be grateful for.  
(On one grey evening, when the clouds outside were as heavy as their mood, Helena told her about heaven. Thought she didn’t quite believe in angels, she knew that her daughter, wherever she was, now danced through the air on the ruby wings of a macaw.)  
In turn, she taught Helena about the cool air of Colorado, that strawberry licorice was way better than cherry, and that bossy little sisters weren’t exactly the ideal siblings either.  
They did other kinds of teaching and learning as well, the kind with books and philosophical discussions and debates that weren’t quite arguments, at least most of the time. Helena had a wit as sharp as a razor, but she was gentle with Myka during discussions. No, not gentle, exactly - her mind was keen and cutting, but they fenced instead of battled and rarely drew more blood than could be kissed away.  
(Sam had been smart. Hell, Myka couldn’t ever recall dating anyone who was actually stupid. Nobody she’d ever been with, however, could managed to be so infuriatingly, adorably smug about it as Helena was.)  
When their plans for a romantic night at the movie theater fell through after a last-minute emergency involving Robert the sea lion and a stolen bucket of fish, Myka expected Helena to be a bit disappointed. Instead, she confided that she would rather stay in and wear her comfy pajamas anyway, and the two of them had snuggled in to spend the night watching a documentary on savannah wildlife on Myka’s fuzzy-screened TV.   
A thousand cutesy anecdotes couldn’t quite begin to describe how she felt; a million soft kisses couldn’t give her the voice to say the words. Instead, she just thought them to herself.  
As she buried her nose in the soft tumble of hair down Helena’s shoulder - I love you.  
As Helena coaxed one of their parrots to land on her arm and turned, beaming - I love you.  
As she listened to the lilt of Helena’s voice as she called her name - I love you.  
And then, finally, while they lay buried under blankets, content to be holding hands in their PJs as the narrator told them about the lifespan of meerkats, “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this was too cutesy, but I honestly just didn't want angst for these two right now (or ever, really).


	16. The Stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, sorry this was so late. Life has been pretty wild lately. I've gotten too far into this to back out now, though - I'm gonna see it through!

Myka had never spent much time in the aviary before Helena came. She and the rest of the keepers had taken turns caring for the birds, swapping off every week who got to refill the bird feeders, clean up the poop that they somehow managed to splatter everywhere, and check on the ailing specimens. She’d liked the occupants of the aviary all right, but there wasn’t much need for her to visit very often.

Once she’d begun to spend more time with Helena - and, accordingly, in the aviary - Myka discovered a whole new dimension to the birds housed there. They were clever and excitable, and she’d watched with amusement and amazement as Helena taught them little whistling games and concocted bizarre little puzzles for them to solve in order to win a treat. They let out high-pitched screeches and chirps whenever they managed to get it right, and the fond smile Helena gave them on such occurrences just made Myka love both the other woman and the birds even more. They were so lively and intelligent, and somehow they even seemed to understand her mood by the tone of her voice and the ease of her movements.

At the moment, the birds around them were displaying their talent for reading their keepers. She and Helena were both tight bundles of nervous energy, talking little except to exchange worried glances whenever they passed by. Many of the birds were also uncharacteristically silent, and the glass-domed building felt terribly quiet without the usual ceaseless cacophony of chirps, trills, and calls. The only noise came from Carroll, who let out a kind of demented squawking as he peered at them through the bars of his cage.

“I love all of them,” Helena told Myka as she filled the last empty feeder, “but that one has always been a little strange.”

“He’s kind of creepy,” Myka agreed, the tone of her voice forcibly light. “We had to put him in his own enclosure - he kept trying to escape and attacking the other birds.”

“Little rascal,” Helena snorted, but her heart wasn’t in it.

Their duties complete, the two of them shared one final hopeless look before departing from the aviary and heading to the gates.

“We might have time to stop at the apartment and get a change of clothes,” Myka told her as they walked. “I’d hate to show up wearing this.” She grimaced down at her stained khaki uniform and wrinkled her nose at its scent.

Helena shook her head regretfully. “The traffic is going to be awful. We’ll be lucky if we make it on time as it is.”

Swallowing back a weak plea that they skip the event altogether, Myka nodded once and climbed into the car.

The whole way to the convention center, Myka felt as if her stomach was slowly liquefying, dribbling acid through her blood. Her movements were jerky, her hands clamped so tightly on the wheel that she was sure she was going to leave a dents in its plastic.

“Relax, Myka,” Helena told her at a stoplight, setting a gentle hand on her elbow. There isn’t anything to be worried about, if this Kosan fellow is a good as Amanda says he is.”

“But what if he isn’t? Helena, we need him to do well. If he slips up once tonight, we’re all-”

“Myka!” Helena cried. “The light’s changed - you need to go.” An angry horn blared from behind them, punctuating her words. Myka stomped down hard on the breaks and tore through the intersection, face flushed in embarrassment and anger.

“I know you’re worried, Myka,” Helena told her once they’d put a few blocks between them and the irritable driver behind. “I am too. But there isn’t anything we can do tonight except be there like Artie asked.”

Myka nodded once, tersely, and Helena left her hand on her arm until they pulled into the parking lot.

It was crowded, Myka noticed as she slammed her door shut. It seemed that there was an even bigger turnout than usual this year. Walking up the path to the convention center’s front door, Myka read the banner tacked above that read “Bristol Mayoral Debate” and swallowed hard.

Her assessment was correct: the lobby was packed full, and she and Helena had to search for a few anxious minutes before they spotted Pete and the rest of the group waiting by the doors to the main event.   
“Ah, you’re here,” Artie said when he caught sight of them. He sounded a bit relieved to see them, and even Myka felt a bit better now that her team was there with her. Somehow, with them by her side, she couldn’t help but be a bit more optimistic.

“The debate starts in five minutes,” Artie told them, “so we should find our seats now.” With a vague noise of agreement, Myka followed him as he elbowed his way through the crowd and pushed through the doors to the coliseum. The rest of the crowd fell in behind them.

The group of them managed to snag seats only a few rows from the stage, where a pair of empty podiums that could be seen from every corner of the amphitheatre were perched.

“Wait a minute,” Myka said, carrying out a quick headcount. “Where’s Amanda?”

“She’s Kosan’s aide, Myka,” Pete reminded her. “She’s helping him primp and prep before he comes out for the big show.”

He had a grumpy, almost jealous look on his face, and Myka herself couldn’t help but feel a little let down as well. Myka was not naive when it came to politics, but Amanda was so involved in this particular election that it was disappointing that she wouldn’t be there to help them understand the nuances and implications of each politician’s statement.

She could tell that Helena had been thinking the same thing; their eyes met and they shared a look of grim understanding. Impulsively, Myka reached over the armrest to catch Helena’s hand in hers.

The lights suddenly dimmed, and the darkness was quickly punctuated by a pair of white spotlights. Polite applause rippled through the audience as the two contestants came onto the stage. Myka began to clap as well, but she found her hands stilling as she caught sight of their opponent for the first time.

Kosan, as he approached, was all smiles and swagger - he oozed affability and friendliness, even waving to a few individuals in the crowd. Celcus was different. He carried the same amount of certainty, but his manifested in a kind of cold confidence. His smile was more of a smirk, thought he didn’t lack for charisma; there was something in the way he carried himself, steadily yet carefully, that suggested a natural inclination to be the first one stepping forward.

He was the kind of leader that left no doubt that anyone would follow him after he took that first move - and he knew it.

“Woah,” Pete murmured beside her, “he looks kind of badass.”

“Yeah,” Claudia put in. “But our guy looks like fricking Mr. Rodgers.”

It was true, Myka realized. Compared to the cool and collected Celcus, Kosan seemed almost manically cheerful. As she watched, he gave a wave so enthusiastic that his elbow knocked into the corner of his podium with an audible clunk.

The applause crescendoed as the two men reached the podium and tapered off as the moderator of the debate joined them onstage and leaned over her microphone. “Thank y’all for coming down tonight,” she trilled, and Myka groaned in disbelief at the familiar voice.

“Wait a moment,” Helena hissed beside her. “It’s her! That dreadful reporter was bullying us outside the zoo!”

Sure enough, it was Sally Stukowski’s perpetually-smug visage peering down at them. “All right then!” she continued with a simpering smile. “We’re gonna get started here! Now, questions are coming from the audience tonight, so just raise your hand if you’ve got anything to ask.”

And Myka sat with a feeling of dread heavy in her stomach as arms rose up among the crowd.

For some reason, she had believed that everyone else at the convention was there for the same reason that she was: to talk about the zoo (whether to defame it or defend it, she didn’t know, but she couldn’t see much other reason to come). But the first question, posed by a stuffy-looking man in a suit, was on reassembling the school board. And the next was about water filtration. And the next about taxation, and it went on and on as such until Myka felt as if she would squirm right out of her seat in anxiety. Fifteen minutes ticked by without any mention of the zoo. Then half an hour. Then forty-five minutes.

As tense as she felt, Myka still did her best to pay attention to the candidates. She hadn’t known much about the race until Celcus had set out against the zoo in his campaign, but afterward she had brushed up on the policies of both men as quickly as she could. She couldn’t honestly say that she adored either of their platforms - but with the zoo at risk, she couldn’t let political sentiments get in the way. So instead of listening to the issues they discussed, she focused on gauging the crowd’s response to their answers.

Politics, she realized, was a lot like being onstage. It was all one perfectly-rehearsed performance - a smile here, a statement there, with passive-aggressive jabs at the opponent sprinkled liberally throughout the script. As she watched the show, the fact that old movie stars had been elected governor and president suddenly made a lot more sense.

Of the two, there was no disputing who was the better actor. Kosan reminded her of the boy who had played the king in her middle school’s rendition of “Camelot,” who had been full of teeth-baring grins and melodramatic gestures (while his acting was so over-exaggerated that everyone in the audience had burst into laughter during what was supposed to be his solemn soliloquy). In contrast, Celsus had a smooth subtlety to his words and actions, and his shoulders were set firm and still.

It seemed as if her coworkers had come to the same conclusion - they all had a tense look about them, coupled with a dash of secondhand embarrassment on Kosan’s behalf. It wasn’t that he was terrible, not really. It was just that Celcus was so much better.

Still, she had to believe that Kosan could win, for to do otherwise would mean admitting defeat. And really, she almost had convinced herself that they had a chance - that is, until the final two questions of the debate.

“All right,” Sally Stukowski called, her gaze settling on a distant figure in the crowd. “What would you like to ask the candidates?”

“The zoo!” the woman said immediately, standing and flinging her arms out in emphasis. “Nobody’s talked about that - that menace yet, and I want to know what you’re going to do about it!”

With a Cheshire cat grin, Stukowski nodded at Celcus to start.

“I understand your concern,” he began, his voice measured and grave. “And I too feel that the dysfunctional relic that we know as ‘Bristol Park’ has long since lost what use to the city it ever had.” He paused to survey the audience, and when he resumed, his voice had risen in volume and intensity. “Which is why I propose that we erect another facility on its grounds, one that will bring prosperity to our city. The Bristol Industrial Complex will create new businesses, new jobs, and new innovations to our town and improve the lives of everyone here.”

A stunned silence met his words - one that quickly turned into shocked murmuring and then a jumble of shouting as everyone began to talk at once. Celcus watched over the chaos he had caused impassively, the only emotion visible on his face being the slightly amused gleam in his eye.

“WHAT?!” Artie exploded. “He can’t do that! This is outrageous - this is…!” He broke off into incoherent splutters, his rage overcoming his ability to speak. Beside him, Claudia and Pete wore identical expressions of stupefied horror while Leena gave a great heaving sigh of distress and reached over to place a soothing hand of Artie’s back.

Stukowski let the hubbub continue for a moment, a look of excitement on her puggish face, before she called the meeting back to order.

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” she shouted. “Everybody, we need to let the other gentleman have a turn.” Turning to Kosan with a smile that was only a few shades away from a smirk, she asked him, “All right, mister. What do you think?”

To his credit, Kosan seemed far less cowed than Myka had expected he would be. His voice barely wavered as he took the microphone and began to speak. “We are all aware that there have been several recent tragedies at our community zoo. There was that terrible accident in October, and then that fire just a few days ago. We have all been saddened by such senseless loss of life and property. But that does not mean that we need give up on Bristol Park.” He paused for a moment to gaze about the room, suddenly looking far more serious and commanding than he had all night. Myka found herself holding her breath, hoping that he could somehow get this right. “Bristol Park is, exactly as it’s name suggests, Bristol’s Park. It belongs to us, as a community, and it is up to us to support and defend it during its time of need!”

Almost before he had finished speaking, Myka and the rest of the zookeeping team began to applaud furiously. “Oww-oww!” Pete whooped, lunging to his feet. Claudia joined in his standing ovation with an enthusiastic wolf whistle.

Turning around, Myka was thrilled and relieved to see that they weren’t the only ones celebrating Kosan’s speech. Half of the room - maybe more! - was clapping along with them, some of them as raucously as Pete and Claudia. Even a few of those who had cheered for Celcus were nodding their heads thoughtfully as they considered the words of his opponent.

Beaming, Myka looked back to the stage to see a satisfied look on Kosan’s face as he took in the reaction he had caused. “He did good, Myka,” Claudia said happily, giving her nudge. “He nailed it! I think this guy might’ve just saved our asses!”

Myka just smiled and faced the stage once more - only to have the grin melt off her face when she caught sight of Celcus.

From working in the zoo, Myka had learned a lot about the behavior of living things. She’d been bitten, scratched, and pooped on enough times to be able to recognize the warning signs in an animal when they were about to strike: a twitching tail, a tensing of the shoulders, even a faintly murderous gleam in their eye. It had taken time, but she had learned how to recognize when one was going in for the kill.

And at that moment, Celcus was holding himself with such dangerous intensity that, had he been part of the zoo, she would have bolted his cage’s door and stepped well out of reach.

Instinctively, she opened her mouth to shout out a warning to Kosan. But Stukowski was holding up her hands for silence as the applause around her abated, so Myka simply clamped her lips shut in an anxious grimace and waited for Celcus to pounce.

“All right!” Stukoswki called once the crowd had quieted enough for her to be heard. “Let’s see… I think we have time for one more question before we wrap up this evening. So… how about this gentleman over here?”

All the other times that she had chosen a member from the audience, Stukowski had made a big show of craning her neck and peering all over the crowd to get a look at everyone who was raising their hand. This time, however, she turned immediately to face an area just slightly to the left of the main door, her finger landing upon a blonde man in the front row as surely and swiftly as a compass would point north.

Even then, Myka didn’t realize exactly what Stukowski had done until she saw that the man was not sitting in one of the convention center’s seats, but in a sleek black wheelchair.

“Thank you,” the man said, as much the embodiment of crisp professionalism as he had been while leading the protesters outside the zoo’s gate. “My question is specifically for Mr. Kosan.”

Kosan nodded his assent, still flushed with success after the response to his last speech. Myka didn’t miss the leonine gleam of anticipation in the eyes of Ceclus behind him - but once again, it was too late.

“Mr. Kosan,” the blond man said, his voice smooth. “I was wondering if you could tell us a bit more about your financial advisor, Ms. Theodora Stanton.”

“Erm,” Kosan said, his bravado melting away into confusion (and something a little more desperate that Myka would almost have called fear). “What about her? If you’re questioning her credentials, I can assure you that they are sound. She graduated at the top of her class, and-”

“No, Mr. Kosan,” the man cut in, his voice overpowering that of the babbling Kosan even without the assistance of a microphone. “My question had to do with the fact that you have been having an affair with her for the past four months. I just wanted to ask - does Mrs. Stanton know?”

Kosan froze in place, eyes bulging and mouth open, as a deathly silence smothered the audience. Behind him, Myka saw, Ceclus was truly smiling for the first time that evening.

“Oh shit,” Pete whispered.   
And then the room exploded.

The audience began buzzing, then roaring, then howling. The cameramen filming the debate all swiveled to face the accused man while the news anchors accompanying them began to fire questions up at him, all debate procedures forgotten. Kosan backed away from the podium, spluttering excuses that went unheard due to his distance from the microphone and the clamor of the crowd. In the front row, a blonde woman that Myka could only assume was Theodora Stanton leapt to her feet and made a run for it, only to be swallowed up by the seething mob of newscasters and furious citizens.

Kosan only managed to come to his senses after the first interviewer managed to clamber onto the stage. Stukowski, forbidden from participating in the smorgasbord of gossip and chaos by her capacity as the debate’s mediator, watched jealously from the sidelines as he thrust his microphone into Kosan’s face.

“Mr. Kosan! What do you have to say ab-”

“No comment!” Kosan hissed, shoving past the man to stalk toward the stage doors.

“But-!”

“GET OUT OF MY WAY.” Placing both hands on the newscaster’s shoulders, Kosan pushed - hard - and sent him sprawling. The crowd had become an animal all its own, driven by instinct and wild fury, and it bellowed all the louder as Kosan fled.

“Oh my god,” Claudia murmured, staring at the chaos around them. “He messed up big time. We messed up big time.” She turned to Myka, eyes pleading. “What are we going to do?”

And Myka wished she had an answer that would make everything better, that would turn back time until Kosan was once more smiling confidently on the stage while all the hope in the world rose in her chest. But there was nothing she could say, so she simply caught ahold of Claudia’s hand and began to guide her through the throng.

The original plan had been for the group to go out to eat at a restaurant downtown after the debate, but Myka knew that there was no celebration in order after the absolute fiasco that the event had been. So, after spending a good twenty minutes fighting their way to the exit and locating her car in the crowded parking lot, it was with some surprise that Myka spotted Amanda’s caller ID appear on her buzzing cell phone.

“Hold on a sec,” she told Helena, tucking her phone under her chin so she could pull her car’s door open. “Hello? Amanda?”

“Myka.” Amanda’s voice was tight and urgent, but Myka felt that, under the circumstances, she was showing a great deal of control. “Are you with Helena? I need to see you both at the zoo’s staff room in ten minutes.”

“What? I mean, yeah, she’s with me, but-” There was an abrupt click from the other end, and Myka blinked in disbelief at the “call ended” message that flashed on her screen as she pulled the phone away from her ear. “What the hell?” She turned to face Helena, not sure whether she was more incredulous or insulted. “She just hung up on me.”

"Well," Helena said, her voice terse, "I can't really blame her. It's been one hell of an evening.”

“Helena,” Myka said softly, slumping against her seat with a soft groan. “Don’t. Please. We can’t give up - the zoo deserves more than that.”

“Give up?” Helena exclaimed, her mouth set in a furious scowl. “Myka, working here has changed my life - perhaps even saved it. You’re out of your bloody mind if you think I’ll let it go because some imbecile wants to turn it into a nasty little business park to please the piss-faced businessmen in this town.” Breathing heavily from her tirade, she glared at Myka as if daring her to object.

Instead, Myka just gave a quiet laugh and twisted her keys in the ignition. “We’re gonna need you, Helena,” she told her. “We’re gonna need that fire.”

And Helena, looking somewhat flattered, let the matter rest.

The two of them were the last to arrive at the staff room, she realize immediately as she ducked through the doorway. She shot an apologetic glance at Amanda for their tardiness - traffic had been terrible getting out of downtown Bristol - but the other woman gave only the smallest of nods in response before turning to survey the room as a whole.

“I’m sorry to bring you here so late,” she began, and all side conversations broke off as they realized she was addressing them. Amanda’s voice had always had a calm sort of authoritativeness to it, and it served her well in gathering the attention and respect of those she worked with. “But we’re obviously experiencing a slight setback. We need to take action now in order to make it through this.”

“‘Slight setback’? ‘Take action’?” The normally-serene Steve’s voice was laced with bitter incredulity, and Myka felt a pang at the fact that even he had been rattled by the catastrophe at the debate. “Sorry Amanda, but I don’t really see how there’s any way to fix this.”

“Steve, let me finish.” Steve raised his eyebrows at the sharpness of her tone but nodded at her to continue. “Steve is right, in a way. In the politest of terms, Kosan’s campaign is completely screwed over. He has no chance at all.”

“Amanda,” Pete stage whispered halfheartedly. “Inspirational speeches? They’re supposed to inspire people, not depress them.”

“But that doesn’t mean we have no chance,” Amanda pressed on, ignoring Pete’s comment except for a brief roll of her eyes. “Or rather, that doesn’t mean that I have no chance.”

“Hold up a minute,” Claudia said, raising her hand as if they were still at the debate. “What exactly are you talking about?” She glanced at Pete, hopefully for more insight, but he just shrugged cluelessly.

“I was in charge of Kosan’s entire campaign. I know his staff, his benefactors, his enemies, and what we need to do better than anyone. I’m the best person to stand up to take his place - and if we want to save the zoo, that’s the best chance we have.”

“No way,” Pete gasped, looking awed and slightly worried. “You mean… you?”

“Yes,” Amanda affirmed, smiling in a way that was one part excited and two parts determined. “I mean that I’m going to be running for mayor.” 


	17. Posters

“Jeez, Myka,” Pete groaned, tugging forcefully at the edge of his poster. “How much tape did you put on this one?”

“Well, I thought they’d need to stay up for a while,” Myka retorted, successfully peeling a different banner off the brick. Maneuvering carefully on the ladder, she turned to send it spinning to the ground like a bizarrely-patterned leaf. Having been hung up on the wall of her apartment building mere days before, Kosan’s smiling visage was still clean and unstained by the elements. It seemed almost a pity to throw them away, she thought. But it wasn’t as if they would be of any use now.

“Touché,” Pete sighed. Plucking his car keys out of his pocket, he began to saw ineffectually at the nearest wad of tape. “But these new ones? They’re gonna be even better.”

My just smiled down at him and affixed the new poster, this one emblazoned with a portrait of Amanda, in the empty space left behind by the old one.

Though they had all been caught off-guard by Amanda’s sudden announcement - not to mention the disastrous debate - Myka was proud of how her friends had rallied, quickly becoming Amanda’s secondary campaign staff. Claudia, who had picked up some computer expertise in her career as projects manager, helped her set up a website (after her original offer to “take down” Celcus’ page was met with a firm rebuttal). Steve and Helena had come up with the ingenious idea to tour the elementary schools for publicity and to give presentations on the importance of studying ecosystems and the environment.

“You should’ve seen their faces!” Helena enthused, her smile wide and excited. “We brought in a few birds and lizards, which was all very well and good, but when we brought in Rheticus on a leash-!” She threw back her head and laughed aloud at the memory. “Those kids will be gushing about seeing an aardvark in school for ages - and hopefully their parents will be listening!”

(At first, Myka had questioned the wisdom of putting Helena in a room full of young children, but the light in her eyes after she returned from the first school had convinced her that it was actually helpful to her. Seeing all the kids giggling and gasping at the wonders she had to show them brought back memories, she knew - but most of them were good ones. And remembering, no matter painful, was always a step towards healing.)

The rest of them contributed in more tedious ways: handing out flyers, making endless telephone calls, and, of course, hanging up posters. It wasn’t exactly enjoyable, but Myka found that she didn’t mind too much anyway. Keeping busy had always helped her to focus, and she found that she much preferred the exhaustion that came after a long day of campaign work than the tension that thrummed through her at the thought of sitting by and doing nothing.

And as she and Helena sat slumped on the couch, too tired to reach for the novels they had abandoned on the coffee table (but never, inevitably, too tired to cuddle), she actually found the drowsiness pleasant.

Amanda, she knew, had been working harder than any of them. While they refilled the elephants' hay one morning, Pete reported that Amanda had sent him to the grocery store twice already that week in order to stock up on coffee. “She’s a caffeine fiend,” he told Myka.  “As far as I can tell, she hasn’t slept once since Kosan backed out of the race.”

Myka raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, no. I mean… I don’t actually mind that I’m not getting any action.” He ignored her disgusted sigh, gazing out into the distance with a rather dreamy look in his eye. “Have you seen her, Mykes? She’s so intense about this - so passionate. And it’s kind of awesome. I think… I think I might love her a little.”

“Really?” Myka remarked drily as she impaled a hay bale with her pitchfork. “And it’s taken you this long to decide that you love your girlfriend?”

“Hey,” Pete said, turning to squint at her. “I’m sorry we can’t all be as perfect as you and your British babe, okay?”

“Do not call Helena a ‘babe’ for any reason ever again,” She told him sternly, but she could feel a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

How long had it been since they first kissed? It felt as if she had always been a part of her life, as if there had always been another coat hanging on her door, twelve different kinds of tea in her cupboard, and the spicy scent of Helena lingering in her pillow.

How quickly one’s world could change.

Unfortunately, she had to share Pete’s complaint about the lack of quality time she was able to spend with her girlfriend (though just thinking the word “girlfriend” made her shiver with happiness and want to wrap her arms around herself in a silly little hug). They rarely had time to do more brush hands as they hurried by during the day, and at night they could barely steal a few kisses before one or both of them conked out. Time was a precious commodity these days, as they juggled running a campaign and the already-exhausting responsibilities of zoo upkeep.

Publicity was also in short supply - and according to Amanda, it was even more important than anything else. “Nothing else matters if they don’t recognize the name on the ballot,” she would tell them as she handed them a stack of posters. “Spreading the word is key. And these posters are all we’ve got right now.”

Though Myka knew she was partially just trying to make Pete and herself feel better about being stuck with the boring jobs, Myka also had to admit that she was right. Despite Amanda’s crafty political maneuvering, Celcus had managed to weasel his way out of the makeup debate she had attempted to schedule by complaining that the funding of such an event would be a waste of the taxpayer’s money. And, as much as Amanda rolled her eyes and scoffed at his using the most cliche argument in a politician’s arsenal, there was nothing they could do.

With a formal debate out of the question, they had despaired of ever finding Amanda a public platform upon which to go head to head with Celcus. Arranging an individual speech for her wouldn’t be too difficult - the problem was, doing so wouldn’t be helpful in contrasting her abilities as a speaker to Celcus’. Their only option was to bring them together in some way, if such a thing was possible.

It was Doctor Calder, surprisingly enough, who managed to find them a solution. She was a stately, gentle woman, and Myka had always had the oddest feeling that she was far above the untidy scuffle that the mayoral campaign had become.

One evening, however, while they continued the circuitous argument of how they could pull off a debate, a quiet  knock sounded on the staff room door and Vanessa peeked in. “Sorry to intrude,” she said, stepping inside, “but I think that I might be able to help.”

Vanessa, as it turned out, had a number of influential contacts in town. She had grown up in Bristol, and had loved the dingy little city enough to return after completing veterinary school. It made sense, Myka supposed, that she had come back mainly to be with her friends rather than to live in a place that was decidedly less glamorous than anywhere else she could have gone.

A certain Rebecca St. Clair was one such friend. An old teacher of Vanessa’s, they had remained close throughout the years and had kept in contact even after the older woman’s retirement.   
“Rebecca was a wonderful teacher,” Vanessa informed them, smiling gently at some distant memory of her days as a student. “And I wasn’t the only one who thought so. She became a bit of a legend in  town - every incoming freshman knew that they wanted to get Ms. St. Clair for homeroom, and every senior who’d ever had her hoped that they’d have college professors that were half as clever as she was.”

The rest of them had come from other areas of the state, country, or (in Helena’s case) the world, so they could only trust that the light in Vanessa’s eyes as she spoke of her meant that she really was as excellent as described. Myka remembered the solace she had taken from kind teachers on the days that her father was angry and being at home wasn’t a good idea, and she found smiling along with Vanessa as she continued her story.

“A couple of years ago, a few of her old students came up with the idea to do something for her, to thank her for everything she had been to us. We decided that we’d help to build the high school a new library and dedicate it to her - we each donated a bit, and then the school board organized a fundraiser. Maybe you’ve heard about it?”

Most of them nodded, recalling glimpsing posters around town and hearing reports of the fundraiser’s success on the radio.

“Well, construction finishes this week, and they’re holding the dedication ceremony next Friday. It’s going to be a big event - lots of people will be there, and I hear that there will be a few speeches.” She paused to give them each a significant look.

“Wait,” Artie said slowly. “You mean that Amanda should…”

“I’ve asked Rebecca if she wouldn’t mind adding two speakers to the end of her list,” Vanessa told them, smiling in a way that Myka would have called smug if she hadn’t known that she didn’t have anything even resembling a mean bone in her body. “She said that it would be lovely to have such respected public officials as a part of her ceremony.”

At that moment, despite the fact that Helena was sitting right beside her, eying Vanessa with new appreciation, Myka wanted nothing more that to kiss Vanessa right then and there.

Artie beat her to it, however. “You’re brilliant,” he said hoarsely, and then leaned over to peck her on the cheek. Vanessa froze for a moment in shock and Artie pulled back abruptly, already beginning to stammer out apologies. Giving him a fondly exasperated look, Vanessa shut him up by firmly pulling him closer and proceeding to kiss him in earnest.

Myka and Helena exchanged looks - hers shocked, Helena’s amused - while Pete wolf whistled and Claudia mimed vomiting into the trash can.

They broke apart quickly, blushing and ducking their heads in ecstatic guilt, and it took a few moments of awkward apologies, congratulatory whoops, and heartfelt pats on their backs before somebody managed to pick up a phone and let Amanda know the plan.

Myka felt warm and happy as they trooped from the staff room, elation and a new sense of purpose sending heat through her bones despite the chill of the November air. Even as they walked to together to the parking lot, she felt a cold tickle on her nose and looked up to see the air speckling with snow. She laughed in spite of herself at the sight of it, lifting up her palm to grasp a few flakes in her palm before they vanished into the curl of her fingers.

“Oh,” Helena said, her voice soft and awed. “Look, Myka - it’s snowing!” Myka smiled at her wonder, and then laughed aloud as she opened her mouth and grimaced at the cold touch of it on her tongue.

“Doesn’t it snow in England?” Myka asked, amused, but Helena didn’t answer - she was too busy dashing across the lawn to inspect the thin white layer that had formed over the winter-browned grass.

Myka could almost feel herself glowing with affection as she watched Helena. It was startling, in that moment, how much love she felt swelling within her. The tension and stress of the past weeks had faded within her for a moment, leaving her skies cloudless and bright. Somehow, she felt, with sudden clarity, they would be all right. Even if Celcus won, even if the zoo was shut down, they would find a way to carry on. She and Helena had had faced horrors alone, and they could stand against worse if they were at each other’s sides.

And as Helena turned to her, beaming, Myka felt the thought of together pulsing pleasantly within her.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry updates have been so sluggish! I've been prepping for Forensics Nationals and also got cast in a play, so I've been busy, busy, busy! Don't worry, we're almost done anyway. Thanks for coming along for the ride!


	18. Dedication

The snow, to Helena’s delight, didn’t let up for a good three days. It gave their little apartment a cheery holiday feel, despite the fact that it wasn’t yet Thanksgiving. It made Myka wonder, and maybe do a bit of wishing - what would the holidays bring this year, now that she had someone to share them with? Instead of her customary trek back up to Colorado to visit her family, she imagined curling up on the couch with Helena to watch silly Christmas specials and waking up beside her in the glorious peace of New Year’s morning. Myka had always loved winter, but never before had she looked forward to it as much as she did now.

But as the new “debate” grew closer, the cold weather slowly began to feel more bleak and desolate. They had to begin preparations for winter in the zoo, adjusting diets and restricting animals from the warmer climates to their heated indoor exhibits. The extra work just added more strain to their already-busy lives, and she could feel it taking its toll on her as each hour ticked by.

By the time the big day itself rolled around, Myka felt like a piece of twine pulled taut enough to snap. She completed her duties that afternoon with mechanical efficiency, though her hands shook so badly as she measured out dry feed for the giraffes that she spilled grain all over the table. Even visiting the sea lions, whose goofy waddles and impatient honks almost always made her smile, did little to help her mood. She tossed Robert and Emily their fish listlessly, hardly bothering to glance down into the water - but then a strangled sound came from below. Whipping around to peer down into their pool, Myka sucked in a shocked breath as she saw one of them bobbing lifelessly in the waves like a lump of driftwood.

“Shit,” she hissed, whipping out her radio as she took off for the door to the enclosure. “Pete,” she called urgently into the speaker, and held her breath until a crackle of static announced his incoming reply.

“Hey Mykes. You almost ready to go? Because-”

“Pete, I need you at the seal pool NOW,” she interrupted him. Arriving at the water’s edge, she recognized the somewhat slighter form of Emily, their female, and bit out a curse.

“What is it?” Pete’s playful tone dropped away, becoming businesslike with a slight hint of dread. “Mykes, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s Emily. I think she might be…” A raspy gurgle came from Emily’s mouth at that moment, and she managed to turn herself in the water slightly so that her dull eyes could meet Myka’s own.

“God,” Myka sighed, feeling a swift flash of relief. “Pete, she’s alive, but there’s something wrong. I need you - and bring Vanessa.”

She reattached her walkie-talkie to her belt as he radioed in his affirmation, and Myka stood alone by the water and wondered if now was a bad time to start believing in omens.

They were supposed to be at the ceremony began at four that evening, but it was only at five thirty that Vanessa at last walked out of her operating room. They’d retrieved Emily in record time, but hauling a slippery two hundred-pound seal from the water was an inevitably lengthy process, especially with only the two of them to do the heavy lifting. The rest of the crew had left for the library’s ceremony before Myka had even discovered the injured seal, and there was no time to call any of them back.

Vanessa had promptly whisked her away to her lab to perform some complicated examinations, only making a brief appearance to poke her head out the door and inform them that she was beginning surgery. Fortunately, Todd had been finishing up some paperwork when they had wheeled Emily in, so there was a vet tech on hand to monitor anesthesia.

Myka and Pete had been forced to wait in the small service lobby of her lab, fidgeting restlessly. They both jumped to their feet as Vanessa finally shoved her way through the door, wiping her hands on a washcloth and looking inexplicably angry.

“Would you believe this?” she snarled in a voice more dangerous than even Artie had ever achieved. “Look at what they did to her!” Vanessa spun and strode back into her lab, Myka and Pete chasing at her heels.

“Vanessa,” Myka called after her. “Is Emily…?”

Her question was answered at the sight of the sea lion, sleepily blinking but very much alive, flopped over on one of the operating tables with a towel wrapped around her middle. Myka felt a bit of the tension in her shoulders drain out of her as Emily gave a muffled bark of greeting, whiskers twitching in a canine smile. Myka turned to face Pete, expecting to see him looking relied, but instead found him staring in revulsion at a small tray on a table near the cot.   
Moving to his side, Myka clenched her teeth at the sight of its contents: paper clips, coins, and what appeared to be a Lego, all bent and stained almost beyond recognition.

“I pulled each of those out of her,” Vanessa told them grimly. “She’d swallowed them, and the poor girl obviously couldn’t digest them. They were cutting her up from the inside.”

The was a moment of silence as they absorbed this, and then Pete spoke with the icy fury of a thousand winter storms. “Who - what bastard could do this? And why?”

“It was most likely an accident,” Vanessa said, shaking her head. “People think that the pool can be used as a ‘wishing well,’ or else as an alternative to a trash bin.”

“But how could anyone be so stupid?” Pete shouted. Emily squeaked in complaint at the volume of his voice, but he barely lowered it as he continued to rage. “I mean, what kind of people are in this town that think it’s okay to do that?”

“Pete,” Myka began soothingly, but he cut her off, eyes blazing.

“You know what? Those people don’t deserve those animals. They don’t deserve this place. None of them.”

“Pete,” she said again, but this time her voice was hard. He turned to her, still surly but also a bit guilty, and she regarded him steadily before she began. “Do you remember that man? The one who came every week, without fail, and would spend hours sitting by the giraffes, just watching them?”

“Yeah,” Pete said sullenly. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well, one day, I walked over to him and asked him why. He said that they had always been his wife’s favorite, and after she died, he felt closest to her when he was watching them.”

“Oh,” was all Pete could say.

“Don’t you get it?” Myka asked him fiercely, stepping closer and forcing him to look at her. “This zoo is for the animals - of course it is. This is supposed to be their home, a safe place for them. But sometimes… sometimes it’s a safe place for people, too.”

She thought of Helena, and the way she stared with such peace at the colorful birds that wheeled overhead, and Myka believed in something more than her words could ever express.

Pete looked at her, and perhaps he saw the sorrow and grief in her face, for he simply bent down and swept Myka off of her feet in a bear hug.   
“Let’s get to that library,” he said at last, setting her back down. “We’ve gotta win this.”

They tore from the parking lot at record speed, even for Pete’s always-erratic driving. Vanessa had stayed behind to monitor the sea lion, though she told them to pass her best wishes onto Rebecca, so Myka had nobody else to complain to about his loose definition of “steering” as they rocketed across town to the high school. Parking at a curb in a way Myka was fairly certain was illegal, the two of them vaulted from his car, picked their way through the packed parking lot, and burst into the school’s auditorium just in time to catch the tail end of a rousing round of applause.

“Did we miss it?” Myka shouted frantically, spotting Claudia at the edge of the crowd and seizing onto her shoulder. “Is it over?”

“Hey, Myka, where the hell were you?!” Claudia asked, turning in surprise. “Helena was freaking out about you being gone and not answering your phone. She went to go look for you a while ago.”  
“Dammit, I left it at the zoo.” Myka scrubbed a hand over her eyes in frustration. “I’ll find her after this. But Claud, is it done?”

“Nope,” Claudia assured her. “Amanda’s next - you just missed Celcus’ speech.”  
Myka felt something in her chest constrict in a nervous spasm. “How was he? Was his good?”  
Claudia snorted in a rather unladylike fashion and rolled her eyes. “It sucked. He just spewed out the same bullshit as at the debate. ‘Progress, business, industry,’ blah, blah, blah.”

“Claud…”

“Myka, I’m serious.” Claudia’s irritated sneer at Celcus’ oratorical skills faded to a smile of genuine happiness. “He didn’t have any more underhanded bombshells to drop, and without that, his speech was a lot less exciting. Besides, he sounds so cold, you know? I think… I think Amanda’s got this.”  
Myka gave her a measuring, worried look, but a round of applause began to ripple through before she could ask anything else. Glancing to the stage, she saw that Amanda had taken her place behind the solitary podium in the middle of the high school’s stage. It was a shabby place, laughably unprofessional compared to the sleek convention center in which the debate had been held, but the faded maroon curtains that framed the stage lent it a sort of grandeur nonetheless.

“I hope so,” Myka murmured to herself, and then waited for the words that could very well end her world.

“Good evening, everyone,” Amanda began, her voice warm and welcoming. Her poise, Myka noticed, was relaxed but not informal - she carried her usual certainty hadn’t deserted her, and it suited her well as she gave her speech.

“First, let me say that I am honored to be here tonight. Ms. St. Clair is a dedicated, hardworking woman who has done so much for the youth of our city and is well-deserving of her retirement, as many of you are aware. I myself had her for civics in tenth grade - and she truly left an impression on me.”

As Amanda launched into a story about a classroom mock debate over school lunches her teacher had organized, Myka found herself scanning the crowd to judge their reactions. Amanda had a conversational tone to her speaking voice, making everyone listening feel as if she were talking directly to them. A few in the audience laughed aloud as she reached the conclusion of her tale (which Myka didn’t quite catch, but believed involved some sort of parallel between Meatloaf Surprise and the Eighth Amendment).

“Even if that lesson didn’t go exactly as planned, I still learned a lot in that class. She showed me the marvels of what it means to be a representative of the people, and instilled in me a fascination with politics that still exists today.  Maybe Ms. St. Clair is the reason I am even now running for mayor of Bristol.” Amanda glanced affectionately across the stage at her old teacher. A polite smattering of applause followed those words, punctuated by a rowdy whoop from Pete in the front row. Amanda barely hid the roll of her eyes, but couldn’t quite conceal her smile.

“I know that many of my classmates felt the same way. Ms. St. Clair was an inspiration to us all - she helped to shape us into the adults we were becoming, and became an important figure in the lives of the lives of so many here in this city. I am very proud that we have acknowledged this and are honoring her here tonight.”

Amanda paused for a moment to survey her audience, her gaze smoothly darkening from its lighthearted glow into something more serious. As she spoke, it was with rising intensity, tiptoeing at the edge of passion but careful not to cross the line into undignified ranting.

“But I find myself unable to understand how we can also so readily ignore another important piece of our community. All of you, I’m sure, are familiar with Bristol Park. Perhaps a few of you only know it from the tragedies it has recently endured. But more of you must remember the place how it truly is. Maybe you have memories of visiting as a child, of watching the lions prowl and the otters play and knowing, just knowing, that there was nothing you’d ever see that could be as amazing. Maybe you remember feeling that it was truly a world of endless wonder.

“As you can see, I never grew up to be a biologist or any kind of animal scientist. But that doesn’t mean that the zoo doesn’t mean anything to me. That place is a piece of our city, and I will always cherish the memories of warm summer afternoons I spent there as a child. I am sad to know that no more of the kids of this town will ever have the opportunity to have Ms. St. Clair as a teacher; that she cannot touch the lives of any more students. However, I am horrified still more at the thought that Bristol Park - highlight of so many childhoods, teacher of lessons that cannot be learned in a classroom - may also be taken from us.

“Is losing the zoo - a piece of our city, a piece of ourselves - something we can justify? That is up to you to decide. But I hope, before you come to any conclusion, that you will take a moment to think of Rebecca St. Clair and remember what a difference a bit of wonder can make in a young life.”

Myka found herself frozen, a fierce thrill rising up inside of her, as the crowd around her began to applaud - and then to roar. It was a beautiful sound, deep and rolling as that of one of their tigers, and she felt it settle into her bones. Claudia grabbed onto her elbow and jumped up and down, squealing in ecstatic speechlessness. Myka was grinning so widely she thought her cheeks would split, and as she looked up on the stage, she saw Amanda standing with her hands folded, looking not so much self-satisfied as simply happy. Celcus, seated at the edge of the crowd, looked positively murderous - but as she turned to look at him, she caught sight of a familiar form flying through the crowd toward them that turned her attention away from him.

“Helena!” she called, and then she was running. “Helena!”

They collided by a knot of well-dressed gentlemen near the back, and Pete would later tell them of the affronted look on their faces as they tripped into each other’s arms exchanged a kiss that was part excitement and joy, but mostly victory.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably only a chapter or two more. Big thanks to Gia for being such a dear and encouraging me with this.


	19. Expecting

Elections were held the last Tuesday in November, but Myka was too busy wrangling Emily into taking her medicine and helping Vanessa tranquilize Eleanor for her vet checkup that she didn’t have the time to do more than dash to the polls during her lunch break and hastily scribble down a vote for Amanda.

It was odd - she had been so nervous before the debates, and even felt anxiety flop in her belly every day she drove home and saw the posters of Amanda plastered over her apartment building. But now, on the day of the election, she somehow felt calm. Well, no, not calm, exactly - the excitement was there, fizzing inside her, but the usual shadow of dread that followed it was noticeably absent. The campaign had been grating at her nerves for far too long, and perhaps the reason she felt so little of the tension the race usually brought her was because her anxieties had been worn away completely by its continual chafing.

Pete, however, obviously didn’t feel the same way.

“What time is it?” He asked for the third time in twenty minutes, fidgeting with the strap of his walkie-talkie on his belt.

“Three fifty,” Vanessa answered steadily, too  intent on monitoring some apparatus she had attached to Eleanor’s foot to glance back at him. “Pete, I understand that you’re worried, but I need you to focus right now.”

“Sorry,” Pete muttered, but Myka spotted him leaning over to catch another glimpse of Vanessa’s watch a few minutes later.

“Polls don’t close until seven, Pete,” Myka reminded him gently. “Relax.”

“I know,” he sighed irritably, kicking at  a stray pebble to send it spinning into the bear’s pool. “It’s just driving me crazy, this waiting around. I mean, I wish we could be out there doing something…”

“We’ve done everything that we can,” Myka said. “It’s all up to Amanda now. Besides, we’re not exactly ‘waiting around.’ There is a live polar bear at your feet - is that exciting enough for you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete said, sagging slightly in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just, well, scared, you know?”

“Yes, Pete,” Myka said softly. “I get it.” Stepping up behind him, she put a comforting hand on his shoulder - only to let out a muffled yelp of surprise as he turned about at her touch and swept her up in a hug.

“Pete, not now, please,” Vanessa called from below. “You’re supposed to be monitoring Eleanor! You do know that she would squash me like a grape if she were to awaken, don’t you?”

“Sorry, doc!” Pete said, setting Myka down so that her feet could touch the floor again. She scowled at him as he turned back to face their vet, but the lightness in her chest and the glow of affection in her eyes was more indicative of happiness than any smile could be.

Then a new thought occurred to her. “Vanessa, what are you talking about?” Myka asked slowly, crouching over the other woman to get a better view of the bear. “You know that Eleanor has always been sweet as a lamb. I mean, I don’t doubt that she could hurt you, but she’s never been aggressive with any of us before.”

“Well, she has been acting a little funny since… you know, Donner died,” Pete said, instantly sobering as he regarded the massive animal sprawled out before them. “Do you think that changed her? Made her more dangerous?”

“It’s a possibility,” Vanessa allowed in a carefully controlled voice, finally turning from the bear and beginning to repack her instruments. “But - though I may be wrong - I believe that there is something else going on here.”

“Dammit,” Pete said, suddenly furious. “Do you think people have been tossing their garbage into her cage too? I swear, I’m going to-”

“Myka,” Vanessa interrupted, pushing herself to her feet. “Have you noticed any changes with Eleanor’s behavior recently?”

“Yes, a few,” Myka said slowly. “ She’s been putting on a bit of weight and sleeping more, but I thought that was normal, with winter coming.”

“It is. But…” A smile, sudden and beautiful, spread across Vanessa’s face - and then Myka knew what she was going to say even before she said it. But she still couldn’t contain the rush of joy that flooded through her as she continued: “I think that our Eleanor might be expecting.”

“Oh my god,” Myka said, biting her lip and grinning. “No way.”

“Wait, what?” Pete swiveled his head between the two of them, looking dazed. “Are you serious?”

“Well, I can’t be certain without an ultrasound. She’s displaying all the symptoms, but it’s still possible that it could be a pseudopregnancy.” Snapping into a businesslike state, she knelt once more at Eleanor’s side to rifle through her bag. “And I’ll take some samples to run hormone tests. Myka, do you mind helping?”

Head nodding, spirits soaring, Myka joined her at the side of what she could only think of as a the first piece of living hope to grace the zoo in a long, long time.

Once the bear had been safely returned to her den and Vanessa had retreated to the lab, Myka quickly excused herself and raced across the zoo to the aviary. She tracked down Helena without too much difficulty - she was refilling food trays in the sublevel of the building, and looked up in surprise as Myka flew into the room.

“Myka?” Helena quickly read her expression. “Is it the election? Has Amanda won?” She seized Myka’s forearms and towed her closer, a desperate excitement bubbling in her voice.

“No - Helena, polls are still open!” Helena deflated slightly, but Myka almost felt herself swelling further with excitement. “It’s something else. Something wonderful.”

The words poured out of her in a rush, an endless fountain, filling the room around her while never depleting the golden warmth within. She felt lighter and freer than she had in months as Helena pulled her close and murmured ecstatic congratulations. That’s wonderful, we’re so lucky, I’m so proud.

“Tell that to Eleanor,” she laughed into Helena’s shoulder. “I’m not the one having a baby.”

And then there was a tenseness in their embrace. Not a cold or angry one, however - closer to the kind start that comes with sudden revelation. Slowly, they pulled back from each other, eyes locked, appraising, a hundred thousand questions and answers and possibilities flickering between them.

Helena opened her mouth to speak and stopped, stammering. Myka giggled, tight and nervous to start and looser after Helena rolled her eyes. They sat for a moment in silence, still holding each other.

“We don’t have to talk about this now,” Myka began. “I know it’s still hard to… I mean, we’ve got time.”

She realized that it was true even as she said it - they had time, they would always have time. Even if Amanda lost, even if the zoo closed, even if Helena flew across the world again, Myka knew that she would be there. She would follow.

And Helena, of the over-dramatic reactions, ever-sarcastic replies, eternally-deflective answers - Helena just smiled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Claudia chose that moment to skid into the room, screeching out something about “oh-em-gee I just dug up something major!” and the two of them reluctantly pulled apart. It would have been a bit more awkward if Claudia had burst in just a few moments earlier, she realized. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but wish she had interrupted them at any other time.

These thoughts were pushed aside, however, as Claudia bustled past them and hurriedly snapped open her laptop on a nearby table. “Okay, so you know that guy?” she began, impatiently brushing aside stray seeds to clear off the tabletop.

“What guy, Claud?” Myka asked in exasperation, moving in to look over Claudia’s shoulder at the screen.

“That guy!” The younger woman thrust a finger at the  photograph she had just pulled up. “He was stirring up trouble with the protesters - and he brought up that whole Kosan-cheating-on-his-wife thing that screwed us over at the debate.”

“With a face like that, he’s hardly very easy to forget.” Scowling, Helena surveyed the familiar cold blue eyes on the screen as if she were inspecting a dead cockroach.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Claudia told them, sounding grimly self-satisfied. “So I did a little digging around, trying to place the guy. And, turns out…” With a vicious jab of her mouse, she minimized the portrait on the screen to reveal an austerely-colored website with the title “Collodi Incorporated” bannering the page. Underneath which, Myka spotted with a jolt, sat a tinier version of the photograph of the blonde man they had just seen. “He’s some corporate bigwig!” Claudia continued excitedly, turning to face them. “That’s why he’s been so gung-ho about Celcus - all of his policies line up pretty perfectly with the interests of big business in the town. Coincidence? I think not!” She beamed up at them proudly, and Myka had to chuckle at her earnestness.

“Well done, Claudia,” Helena said, sounding impressed.

“Thanks,” Claudia said. “So I was thinking - can we use this? I mean, we could throw some serious dirt on Celcus if we can just figure out-”

“Claud,” Myka said, cutting her off gently. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s a little late for that.”

“But…” She sagged visibly, her shoulders drooping so that she looked almost cartoonishly dejected.

“Polls close in… what, two hours? I think that the only thing we can do now is just wait and hope.”

And so they did. Clustered in the staff room, all work done for the day but not one of them willing to sit through the heavy, nerve-jangling hours by themselves, they waited together. Pete pacing along the wall, Steve leaning in the doorframe, Leena perched with slightly less of her usual serenity on the couch, Claudia tapping at her laptop, Vanessa listlessly paging through paperwork, Artie audibly grinding his teeth on the couch, and Helena and Myka sitting side by side, legs almost touching and hands clasped.

The air wasn’t thick with tension, as she had believed it would be - in fact, it was almost too thin, so that every breath felt strained and sent dizzy shivers through her. None of them spoke a word, so the only sound was the clack of keys, the rustle of paper, and the subtle, painful noises of a room full of people in deep distress.

Claudia suggested ordering in, and they kept themselves busy bickering over which Chinese restaurant they wanted and how many boxes of mu shu pork they needed for a good half an hour. The eating and delivery of the food occupied them for a while longer, though everyone suddenly lost their appetite as seven o’clock - the closing time of the polls - rolled around. Pete offered to clean up, which was a remarkable event in itself. None of them were in the mood to comment on it, however, so he took out the trash in relative silence and returned to the room to the same treatment.

Moments dragged into minutes. Helena squeezed her hand. Claudia gave up on whatever project she had been dallying with and slammed her computer shut. Steve coughed quietly. Leena yawned.

Then the phone rang.

Claudia, Pete, and Artie all lunged for the reciever, while everyone else in the room jerked as if shocked. Myka found herself pressing up against Helena completely, both of their hands twisting into an anxious knot.

Pete, having already been standing,  reached the phone first.

“Put it on speaker,” Claudia hissed, almost dancing with impatience behind him.

He snatched up the receiver, punched the speakerphone button, and set it almost reverently on the table. All of them leaned in, barely daring to breathe.

Presently, a slightly staticy voice emerged. “Hello?”

“Amanda? How are you?” Pete immediately winced at how stupid the question sounded, and Claudia helpfully punched him in the shoulder to shut him up.

There was another silence, long as a century - yet shorter, somehow, than half a heartbeat. Myka felt as if she were vibrating with stress, with fear, with hope.

And when Amanda spoke, her voice was bright.

“I’m fine Pete,” she said, her voice drunk with laughter. “We’re just fine.”

“You mean,” Claudia murmured, hardly daring to believe it, “we did it?”

The future itself, all her dreams and everything she ever wanted, titled into reality with Amanda’s next words.   
“We did it.”

There was chaos - the room erupted with screams, whoops, tears, sobs, and eventually devolved into more or less of a group hug with Pete and the telephone sandwiched in the middle. They stayed that way for almost an hour, laughing and crying together, pulling each other into back-slapping embraces and saying simple words that could not begin to  express their joy. Together (except for a brief escape orchestrated by Helena in which she and Myka slipped outside and held onto each other in the cool night air), they celebrated the salvation of a zoo, a community, a family.

When Amanda finally arrived, smiling so hard her eyes were crinkled, they swept her up into the crowd of them and cheered. Pete, as he swung her into his arms and kissed her, had never looked happier. Looking around, Myka realized that none of them had.

A few minutes after their reunion, Pete proposed an impromptu celebration at his and Amanda’s apartment. They trooped out together, chattering and smiling and glowing as bright as the clear sky’s stars above.

Somehow, they had been saved.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done! This chapter or the next will be the last. I can't believe it's almost over.


	20. Earth

The very next day, as the zookeepers trickled in a bit behind schedule, they found a stranger at the gates of their zoo.

Myka, despite Helena's very persuasive suggestion that they stay in bed a bit later that morning, was stirred by her usual sense of duty to try to get to work at a reasonable hour. So it was that she was the first to arrive at Bristol Park that morning, and, accordingly, was the first to catch sight of the woman.

Myka approached cautiously, suddenly fearing that it was a lone protester camped outside their zoo in a last-ditch effort to express her dissatisfaction with their establishment. The woman was facing the gates, so Myka couldn't catch sight of her expression, but the lack of a banner, sign, or megaphone immediately soothed her worries. Even from behind, however, she radiated an air of such regal detachment that Myka wanted little more than to turn on her heel, retreat to her car, and leave her to be dealt with the next staff member who happened along.

But she had work to do, after all. So Myka took in what she could of her - hair pulled up in a severe beehive-like construction, prim pink dress suit, and a small handbag clasped at her side - and decided it was safe to approach.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but the zoo doesn't open for another hour," she said politely. "But you're welcome to come by and visit then."

"Ah, but Ms. Bering," the woman said, not moving an inch, “I didn’t come for just a visit.”

"Excuse me?" Taken aback, Myka squinted at the stranger suspiciously. "What is that supposed to mean? Do I know you?"

"Not personally," she said, turning around at last to reveal a rather stern visage. Behind her glasses, the woman's eyes showed just a spark of amusement. "However, I have heard a lot about you from a friend of mine."

Myka was fast tiring of the "mysterious wisewoman" charade. "What are you talking about?" she demanded. She was still reeling, exhilarated by the events of the day before, but this strange lady seemed determined to spoil her mood - and Myka still had no idea why she was doing so in the first place.

Fortunately, Artie's timely arrival  cleared things up. "Myka, what are you doing out-" He cut himself off mid-sentence, performing an almost comical double-take as he caught sight of the woman she was speaking too. "Mrs. Frederic!" His voice was as close to a squeak as she had ever heard, and he bustled over immediately to shake her hand.

Myka bit her lip and looked between the two of them, calculating. "Mrs. Frederic," she said slowly. "You're on the board of the Zoological Association, aren't you? With Pete's mom?"

Mrs. Frederic nodded at Myka, smiling broadly as she accepted Artie's hand. "You are correct, Ms. Bering," she told her. "I am a member of the Association - the same Association, I am ashamed to admit, that has not been very supportive of this facility as of late."

"No," Myka agreed, forcing her tone to remain just a shade cooler than neutral as she took the hand that was next offered to her. "You really haven't."

"I had nothing to do with that, I'm afraid." Mrs. Frederic really did sound apologetic, and Myka felt her anger beginning to ebb slightly. "I was outvoted on the issue of the aviary. One of the members, James MacPherson, managed to turn most others against the idea.”

Artie’s eyes widened at that, and he began to sputter indignantly. “MacPherson? I should’ve known! That absolute bast-”

“Arthur and James,” Mrs. Frederic told Myka, stepping in to cut off Artie, “have a bit of a history.”

“I can tell,” Myka said, raising her eyebrows at the murderous expression on his face. The only other occasion she had seen his face so flushed with anger, she reflected, was the time that Pete and Claudia had accidentally fed a full batch of his oatmeal scotchies to the chimpanzees. “So this man messed everything up for us.”

Mrs. Frederic nodded. “Simply put, yes.”

“Okay. That’s good to know.” Privately, Myka resolved not to let Artie out of her sight during the next few days. Judging from the look on his face, it was all too likely that he would drive down to Chicago and personally disembowel the man. “But I still don’t really know why you’re here.”

“Ah, yes.” The woman’s eyes were practically sparkling. “You wouldn’t mind taking me inside, would you? This is hardly a discussion for outside the zoo’s gates.”

Artie immediately snatched up his keys and began to fumble with the lock, but Myka kept stock-still, staring at the other woman with dawning suspicion.

“Wait, what is it?” Myka felt her heart suddenly accelerate, something like excitement spiking in her veins. “Has something happened?”

“I have been paying attention to the goings-on in this town.” Mrs. Frederic’s enigmatic smile broke across her face once more, but this time it held more genuine happiness than mystery. “Let us just say that, while you were carrying on your campaign here, I was undertaking a similar one on the board. And both of us, it appears, were ultimately successful.”

“You mean…?” Myka’s voice was hushed, her eyes guarded (but the hope was shining through, like light from a dusty windowpane).

“Your aviary, I am happy to say, will be built.”

Behind her, the gates swung open, wide and gleaming with the morning.

* * *

 

That winter was one of the most busiest, strangest, and happiest Myka had ever experienced.

There was paperwork to fill out, interviews about the zoo’s future with a decidedly sullen-looking Stukowski to be held, contractors to squabble over prices with, a beautiful woman to fall further in love with, and, of course, a whole zoo full of animals to care for. All of it passed by quickly, the days a blur of cheerful work and the nights almost sharp and clear with a very different kind of ecstasy.

Christmas came and went without much incident, aside from Claudia’s request to teach the parrots to sing carols being firmly vetoed by both Helena and Artie. Myka didn’t mind, having had enough excitement recently to last her a good while. And really, if spending an evening snuggled up on the couch with Helena, reading A Christmas Carol out loud to each other and laughing at each others’ character voices didn’t count as “exciting,” she decided that being a boring person might just be worth it.

A week later, a letter arrived in the zoo’s mailbox. They opened it with some trepidation, as the return address was listed as “Labrador County Correctional Institute,” but the rambling not-quite-apology inside still surprised them all. The mysterious figure that Myka had known only as The Jumper had at last broken his silence of more than four months. His name, it turned out, was Leo Blakely, and the reason - no, excuse - he gave for his actions that day made Myka clench her jaw until her whole figure trembled with fury. It was supposed to be an insurance scam, the letter said, but it had gone terribly awry, and really, it wasn’t his fault that the bear had been crazy, and that stupid thing got what it deserved. That night, as Myka buried herself Helena’s arms and tried to keep from crying about the tragic idiocy of it all, she took comfort in the fact that it was Leo who had really gotten what was coming to him.

Amanda was sworn in at the end of January. The entire zoo crew attended the event as her special guests, barely recognizable in formal gear instead of their usual grubby khakis. Amanda kept a controlled, polite smile on her face as she lifted her hand to be sworn in, but it slowly unfurled into a full-fledged delighted grin as the ceremony went on. Afterwards, as the hall rang with applause, Pete pushed his way onto the pedestal and past the scandalized officiator to sweep her into a hug. A few chuckles broke out in the crowd, and Claudia let out an approving whoop. At the suggestion of a Pete still dizzy with happiness, they all went out to ice cream afterwards - though he quickly changed his mind after Amanda suggested that they leave early, pointing out that Pete hadn’t properly congratulated her yet. Pete polished off the rest of  his sundae with an eagerness that made it clear that he would be “congratulating” her all night long.

And then there were a hundred smaller snapshots of joy that brightened the landscape of winter.

Steve and Claudia sheepishly walking in a brown-ruffed dog to the zoo one morning, explaining that he’d chased their car all the way there and didn’t seem to have a home.

The whole team, especially Artie, falling in love with the pup and letting him trot around the zoo with them and become a part of their family.

Pete and Amanda inviting them all out for burgers and Pete dropping to one knee right next to their crowded booth. (“You’re supposed to take her somewhere classy to propose to her,” Myka chastised him as they walked back to their cars together, but he was too busy staring at the slim silver band on Amanda’s finger to do more than smile dazedly and nod.)

Claudia’s exhausted exuberance as she unfurled the aviary’s blueprints, at last completed.

Visiting the Bristol Botanical Gardens with Helena during her lunch break, feeling the hot, heavy air and Helena’s lips on her skin as they ducked behind a Bismarck Palm for a bit of privacy.

A Pete-led snowball fight erupting in front of the staff center, with a noticeably swollen Eleanor looking on curiously.

Artie coming in to work with a lipstick mark on his cheek and blushing furiously whenever Vanessa entered the room.

The snow finally sloughing off the ground in late March to reveal tiny, hopefully shoots pushing up from the scorched earth of Leena’s garden.

Construction began on the aviary soon after spring had finally flourished into Bristol, and they were all kept busy with new duties the building activities demanded. Helena spent more time than ever inside the aviary, keeping an eye on her birds and getting into shouting matches with their contractor, Mr. Valda, over absolutely nothing at all. Neither of them really seemed to mind, however; they actually looked quite cheerful to have someone to bicker with. But Myka missed her while she was away, and the few moments they got to spend together in bed or eating breakfast together each morning became infinitely precious; bright beads of contentment strung along the taut hustle and bustle of her day.

And then, in a flash of love and inspiration, came The Idea, and suddenly Myka had become even more of a busybody than any of them as she scrambled to put her plan in place. She appealed to Claudia for help, who eventually let Pete in on it, and soon the entire zoo crew was involved in the conspiracy - except, of course, for Helena.

It was all worth it in the end, however - all the late nights and hard work and international phone bills and secrecy - as she took Helena’s hand outside the doors to the newly-renovated aviary. Helena gazed about the building, pulling Myka closer and smiling as she took in what they had accomplished.

Then, as her eyes wandered past the glass mural that made up the front window - depicting macaws and warblers and finches, a visual cacophony of color - she froze.

Her expression faltered, slipping from pride to raw heartbreak - but only for a moment, as a soft, awed joy rose up on her face. She stared for a bit, taking a deep breath, and when she turned back to face Myka, her eyes were  wet.

“How?” she asked.

Myka shrugged, on the cusp of a gentle happiness. “I had a lot of help. Your brother even pitched in.”

Helena laughed, disbelieving but affectionate. “Charles? I hope he didn’t talk your ear off about it. He can be quite… verbose.”

“It was fine,” Myka told her. “Really. And even if it wasn’t? I think we’d have done it anyway. You’re important to us, Helena. And we stick together.”

She expected a quip, a sarcastic comment, even a joke. Helena was careful with her pain, kept her emotions latched behind arched eyebrows and sharp words. But that day, she simply rested her head on Myka’s shoulder and quietly said, “Thank you.”

They spent a few more moments just looking, waiting together as they setting sun sent a coppery gleam across the words on the plaque: CHRISTINA WELLS MEMORIAL AVIARY.

Myka pressed a kiss to her temple, and Helena sighed at the clashing of sweetness and sorrow. And the two of them walked off into the twilight, hands entwined and shoulders touching.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was quite a ride, and definitely the longest thing I've ever written. Thanks so much for being a part of it.


End file.
